angewiesen: (64)
[personal profile] angewiesen
Alright, since everyone else is jumping on this wagon, I thought I might as well too.

[Jean turns the camera to show the gift that he received: A cup of tea and a stack of 5 stroopwaffels.]

Mine's from "RQ" too. I'm not sure if someone's missing a snack, or if this is something else entirely. I haven't tasted any of it, but the tea smells like tea and the cookies smell like molasses. I'm not about to make an experiment out of it either. I barely trust the food that comes from the kitchen, and I sure as hell don't trust this.

Anyone have any idea of what it's for? Or who it might've come from?

Anony Text

Sep. 2nd, 2017 07:50 pm
naughty_nurse: (Fell Like A Net)
[personal profile] naughty_nurse
Let's say you have two friends who you care about very much, and they're both very nice people.

You learned friend 1 has a crush on friend 2. You think they'd be very good together.

Is there any way I can get them together? Or should I stay out of it?
angewiesen: (22)
[personal profile] angewiesen
So I learned something pretty important the other day.

Apparently, people from my world have been here before. About two-and-a-half to three years ago. There was an event too. Titans appeared out of nowhere and attacked the Mansion for a couple of days.

Has anyone been here long enough to remember that? And if you have, do you remember any of the people from my world? Anyone who might've talked about Titans or being in the Survey Corps. Which ones were here? Were they... were they okay?

I also realized that, if they had an event, I'd still forget something even if I wasn't there for it. But I don't know what that is. I mean, duh, but I want to figure it out. It's a word, right? One that's special to where I'm from?

...Thanks for any responses.
jivitadana: (> ♪ Sciolto...)
[personal profile] jivitadana
[Everyone's memories were so intriguing. It was kind of nice to get a glimpse into each world, though at some expense great or small, whatever that expense was. Minato thought he wouldn't have the opportunity to visit all of the worlds out there, so he did have to thank Wonderland for giving him that chance. Maybe one positive out of being here was that for all the events, if some individuals didn't remember something from it, then there had to be someone else who would.

It did give him an idea too, a small one that he could work with. He just wanted to give it a try, to see if he could also get reacquainted with his own Personas that he didn't have with him now. The most important reason though was to see if he could try to know more people too, as if too to make up for the Social Links, relationships with people that he should have here. It'd be a good test for him.

His current backdrop were the stacks in the Library as he sat at a table with books all around, those that were open displaying pictures of mythological deities and supernatural creatures, maybe a few historical figures as well.]


Use three words to describe yourself, and I'll try to match you with a Persona.

text;

Aug. 9th, 2017 10:47 am
noreason: (Mighty fine shindig)
[personal profile] noreason
[Today, Naoki has opted for text. Not for any particular reason, other than that it reminds him of using his phone back at home, and he kind of likes that nostalgic feeling.]

It seems like we talk a lot about what we had at home that we don't have here. But what's something you have here that you don't have at home?

And I mean something good, not something like "here we have terrible events that try to kill us and we don't have that at home."

For me, the thing we have here that I don't have at home is night.
choosetruth: (832255_original)
[personal profile] choosetruth
Great, a trip down memory lane. Just what I was hoping I'd get for my birthday.

[With the deadpan tone and the face that's expressionless as ever under her sunglasses, it's hard to tell if Georgia's being sarcastic or not. She sits at her desk in the After the End Times office, posture rigid, hands in her lap.]

As many of you might have guessed, the latest event was my own. I suppose it could have been Shaun's, but I suspect there would have been actual zombies to play with if this were coming from his memories. But no, politics and conspiracies. That's more my wheelhouse. Besides, Sacramento is the city I died in.

[Her tone remains as measured and professional as her expression. These are facts. There's no reason to get emotional about something as cut and dried as facts.]

The paranoia, the constant fear... this is what my team has been working to try and overcome, to spread truth instead of misinformation, to overcome the lies and the bullshit and make people understand the facts. People are afraid. The choices they make often don't actually do anything to make them safer, just keep them afraid. Zombies are not as big a problem as the people in power would have you believe. Most of the outbreaks I've faced that were within residential areas, as opposed to in actual hazard zones, came about due to sabotage and terrorism, not normal zombie activity.

[And it was often to try and silence her and her team. That sure doesn't help her sleep at night.]

I'd apologize for putting you all through this, but I know as well as anyone else that this is on Wonderland, not me. I would have stopped it if it were within my ability. I don't hate my world, believe it or not. It might be fucked up, but it's home. That doesn't mean I wanted anyone else to experience it.

[There's a lot of things she didn't want.]

That being said, if you enjoyed the blogging portion of the event, please be aware that the Shattered Mirror is always accepting submissions. [A beat.] Also be aware that we do not accept Stanfeed style articles. Thank you.
spycurious: (3)
[personal profile] spycurious
[Several people have been kind enough to help teach Ben how to use these devices. He still finds the general experience of it to be unnerving, trifling though it feels as he turns it over in his hands. Instantaneous, mass communication by way of a small box was a concept that was originally met with much incredulity. And yet, after having spent some time in this fantastical place, he could no longer deny what his own senses were telling him. Usage of this device was not only possible but frequently done and considered a staple of survival here.

Ben glances at his surroundings--a room he'd chosen for himself, simple enough in its furnishings--and then back at the small box in his hands. He's already tested its functions and had a look at the messages on it, partly out of pure fascination but also to learn the social expectations required during its usage.

He breathes, and feels he may as well make the proverbial plunge, and notes how ridiculous it is to feel nervous over something so trivial after he's done things like taken lives and marched across battlefields.

Ben presses a few buttons and the video broadcast begins. He tries to hold the thing steady, unnerved at the thought of some "unseen" force simultaneously recording both his voice and his image.]


Hello, I am ... Benjamin Tallmadge. [He realizes belatedly that he isn't wearing a jacket, and perhaps he should have introduced himself with his rank. Oh no...]

I arrived in June and would like to thank those who offered me their assistance.

Additionally, I would like to inquire further into the resources we have here; specifically firearms from the 20th century on Earth. For clarity's sake, I've come from the year 1777 and I am a Major in the Continental Army of the United States of America. In the interest of self-defense and the defense of others, I would like to learn how to use those superior munitions properly.

One may contact me by way of these devices or in person at the library.

Good day to you.

[He ends the broadcast and breathes a sigh of relief. Perhaps he'll suffer through text next time instead.]
honorabledogfather: artist unknown (Default)
[personal profile] honorabledogfather
[However awkward this broadcast is, given how the Taishou is unfamiliar with technology, he still manages to make it sound quite grave. When the device finally focuses up on his face, he looks serious indeed, although he's not yet become remotely panicked.]

Have you a sword, citizens? I would fight for your safety all the better if I was able to wield one, but unfortunately, my blades did not arrive with me.

Your help is appreciated. I fear we must prepare for the worst.

[That's all he says. Brief but to the point.]
thesamurai: (💀 91)
[personal profile] thesamurai
[ She knew as soon as the cryptic message went up what this was going to be. And it's really something to finally be up, after two and a half years, to know this one's yours and it won't be anything good. Michonne's stockpiled more than usual - cases of bottled water, a shit ton of non-perishable food, and guns, ammo. She doesn't know what to expect; maybe it'll all disappear overnight, but she has to try.

When she wakes up back home, back in Alexandria, at first she thinks she's back. But she remembers Wonderland, sits up straight in bed and realizes a few things. Rick's not beside her, her stockpile from yesterday is still there, and her device is on the nightstand. Dressing quickly, she gets up, walks through the familiar house and out onto the porch.

She is home. There's no Daryl in the house next door, her people aren't here, but she's back and she isn't sure how to feel. She isn't even sure what fucked up thing might happen. She has to do her best to warn everyone, toe the line between scaring the shit out of people and making sure they understand. Sitting at her kitchen table (and that's a weird thing, too. This isn't anyone's but hers. This is all...hers. Her house, her couch, her mantle where she hung her katana thinking in a bout of optimism that it could stay there) she turns on her device, her face a little harder than usual which is, in all honesty, saying something. ]


If you don't know me, my name's Michonne. This is my world. Looks nice. Quaint. But it's not. Most people in Wonderland call it a zombie apocalypse. We didn't know what it was.

[ She really can't help having this moment out loud. ]

It was never entertainment for movies and tv in my world. It's real. Most of you already know what to do: shot to the head is the only thing that kills them. It's not good enough to just cut off the head. It can still bite. You get bit, you die and turn. Come back as one of them. Don't worry about being able to tell the difference between someone alive and someone dead. You can see it. Smell it.

[ And uh, one other thing: ]

If you get bit on a part that can be cut off, arm, leg. Do it. Cut it off as soon as you can. If you don't bleed to death, you won't turn.

[ But everyone knows this is temporary, so maybe people would just rather die than go through an amputation. Maybe they'd die and turn because eventually, this will end. They don't have to keep living it every single day. ]

I don't know if walkers will even be the issue. It could be anything I've gone through, right? There's enough fucked up shit that's happened, the biggest threat might not even be the dead. Just trust me. Get a weapon. Stay close because there's safety in numbers. I'm at the very end of the neighborhood with cases of water and food if you don't have any, but look in your pantries and see if there are rations, first. If you know how to use a gun, I've got those too.

Just know that noise draws them in. Gunfire is dangerous, might as well sound off a dinner bell for walkers. That's why I've had and always will have a katana. If you smell like them, they won't bother you. Smear their guts on you, smell dead, walk slow, you can get through a hoard.

[ She should stop, she can't tell everyone everything, it's too much. ]

You know how to reach me, if you need me.
choosetruth: (from bottle alley to the harbor)
[personal profile] choosetruth
Let's talk news.

[Georgia's sitting at her desk, dressed in her usual black blazer and white shirt, staring at the camera seriously through her dark sunglasses.]

I'm sure no one's guessed, but it's an important topic to me. In my world, the news, like everything else, changed radically during the summer of 2014 when the Rising happened. While mainstream newspapers and tv anchors were reporting that everything was fine and laughing about "hoax" zombie sightings, bloggers who took it upon themselves to figure out what was really happening. For bloggers, spreading the truth was more important than maintaining the rapidly deteriorating status quo. They risked their lives to learn how to deal with zombies, and they wrote everything down even while fighting off infection, so that more people could use what they'd learned to survive. They were the heroes of the Rising, and a big part of why we're still around.

The Rising ended over twenty years ago, but we never forgot. There's a reason I'm a blogger, and it's not because I couldn't get a job with a so-called "legitimate" newspaper if I'd tried. My generation trusts bloggers to tell the truth on their own terms, not to bow to the will of various outside powers with different agendas. That's what I'm here to bring. The truth, nothing but.

[She sits back. Her eyes are hidden behind her glasses, but her intense focus is clear anyway.]

But that's my world. I'm interested in hearing about yours. Internet, newspaper, hell, even if the best you've got is a town crier, you've got to get your news somehow. So tell me: what's your experience with the media?
shorthair: (shiver the whole night through)
[personal profile] shorthair
[ ooc: consider this a party post. feel free to tag around as much as you want to others, chiming in and giving advice. be anonymous like clementine or don't be anonymous, up to you. cw for underage drinking, probably mentions of violence, death, etc. ]

( the first time clementine ever had a drink, it was in a shed with nick. they thought they were going to die. it was the grossest thing she'd ever tasted. burned down her throat. moonshine. the second time, it was rum while they all sat in a circle, toasting to the people they'd lost. the third time, it was rum with coke when she checked in on shaun after georgia left.

the fourth time, it's rum again with coke, and she's had a little more than an eleven year old should, but she hit the anonymous function on the post before writing )


how do you deal with all the bullshit life throws at you?

like death and losing and surviving and wonderland and assholes and babies

and cannibals.

or whatever else you've been through. too much free time here.


( definitely feeling the rum now. but with the alcohol, it's like she's finally found some feeling she's been missing. her eyes burn. trust has become so hard that she doesn't trust anyone completely, because everyone has their own priorities. it's how the world works. it's what she's learned. iris is gone. everyone died back home. she has a newborn to take care of there. she's still got walker blood in her veins like michonne, like georgia and shaun have zombie blood in them. when she dies, she'll turn into one too unless someone shoots her first or she does it herself. and she doesn't know how to have emotions anymore. things should reach her and they don't. or maybe she just doesn't let them, and she can't tell the goddamn difference. )
dramatic: (ᴛʜᴀᴛ's ᴡʜʏ)
[personal profile] dramatic
( guess who found the ice cream/soda bar? yeah, it's this girl.

she's processing the whole pocket dimension thing pretty well. even if she wasn't, she wouldn't show you. whaddya take her for?

mj does love being where all the action is. sure, there's the stuck-here-until-the-powers-that-be choose otherwise, but as scarlett o'hara once stated wisely, tomorrow is another day. wonderland's spookiness sounds like tomorrow!mj's problem. maybe. it's hard to get her to take most things seriously.

so have a sparkly and glamorous redhead coming to you live from the ballroom. )


Hiya, Wonderlanders. MJ Watson with a very important question here.

Looks like I'm not going anywhere, so — what's the best floor to live on? What's the worst? Don't skimp on details. If I'm going to need a room and I can make it look any way I want, then I've got to start by making sure I'm on the right floor.

Spill.

( she likes hearing people's opinions. will probably disregard 95% of them, tho. )
angewiesen: (30)
[personal profile] angewiesen
Unseasonable snow aside… [Which Jean was enjoying in his own way. He was sitting in the window of his room, watching it fall while still being warm and cozy. He just had a pressing question for the moment, one that had been building up in his head for awhile.]

I’ve been here for a couple of months, and I’ve talked to enough people to get an idea of how the other half lives. But I’ve still gotta ask—

Is this normal? Not the weird events, or any of the other Wonderland junk, just… This strange, stress-free way of life. Having a roof over your head, food on your plate, and no danger constantly knocking on your front door. The peace and quiet.

It’s more than most people in my world could ever ask for. But the people here seem used to it the moment they set foot in the place. Do we just have terrible luck where I’m from? Is this really how humanity is supposed to live?

[His gaze turns soft and thoughtful.]

I don’t know why it bothers me so damn much.
nomorules: (04)
[personal profile] nomorules
[A camera comes to life, framing a dark canopy of tree tops high above through which peep slivers of royal blue. It's the color of the late afternoon sky, the same view anyone would be able to see through their window, but this one is almost entirely blotted out by branches.]

This thing recordin'--?

[The video tilts down, revealing the speaker. If you've happened to misplace a loudmouth punk today, here's one in all his young, disheveled glory. Ryuji rests in the thick shade of some trees, looking weary (and maybe, maybe a little uneasy if you squint).

There's nowhere else for him to sit or stand besides the thick shade, really. Trees are clustered in suffocating closeness all around. Someone's in the deep woods.]


Uh, yeah, so. Who here's good with Boy Scout stuff? Anyone? I went to check out what's been goin' on outside and I think... I went too far into the forest. [Ugh, a painful admission. He sighs, chin almost on his chest.] Everything just looks the same. Pretty sure I'm just goin' around in circles.

[Point blank: he's lost.]

It's gonna be dark soon, so... Anyone know anything about orienteering?

[He's a man and he's asking for directions. Please help.]

(OOC: Action replies are welcome! Long story short, Ryuji's fallen prey to the confusing nature of the forest and will be lost until someone finds him or leads him out. Curiosity killed the city boy. :'D Please also beware that comments within may contain Persona 5 spoilers!)
noreason: (The ghosts come to play)
[personal profile] noreason
[It's dark on the grounds--it ought to be since it's just a bit before midnight--but that isn't much of a problem for Naoki. He's giving off a soft teal glow that makes it hard to make out his features and expression.

He rocks on his feet before climbing up on the edge of the fountain and balancing there, hands out at his sides. Standing still is hard for him. He's not looking at the feed, which wavers as he holds it in one hand, but he knows it's recording and addresses the network.]


What do you do when you can't sleep?
wriggedywrecked: (you gotta morty)
[personal profile] wriggedywrecked
[Rick starts talking without any sort of preamble.]

So, coffee doesn't work. Caffeine pills don't work. Addy, speed, Ex, none of the usual amphetamines work. E-Even fucking--fucking kalaxian crystals don't work, I, I don't know how Wonderland managed that one.

Listen, I don't fucking g-get nightmares, okay? I yanked out that part of my brain i-in my thirties. So, so we got two options here. Either these are just Wonderland-fueled nightmares, a-and it's just, just a plain old goddamn fucked up dream event, or some of you motherfuckers are, are actually d-dreamwalking into my goddamn brainspace, and I swe-EAAAARRRRHH-r to fuck if that's the case I'm going to kill every single one of you who's c-come into my house and taken a massive subconscious shit on my mental rug.

And if it's not, then, then Wonderland can go fu--

[Abruptly, his eyes roll upward and he collapses right where he's standing. After a moment, snoring can be heard.]

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?
therapize: maxicons @ insanejournal (37)
[personal profile] therapize
[This isn’t Cami’s first time preparing to advertise the therapy office, and some of the steps are pretty routine by now. She’s got the space neat and ready, her mirrors already broken and covered up so there would be no unwelcome interruptions from that end. She props up the phone nearby, so it can capture whatever spiel she’s about to offer to the citizens of Wonderland. The last part is figuring out just what to say, which she hasn’t quite managed yet. Cami’s plan is to give herself a bit of time, to piece together the words, and then start the video when she’s all set.

Her phone has other plans—or, you know. It would if it weren’t an inanimate object. While she means to record, Cami’s intention isn’t to broadcast. But she does, so the mansion can now watch as she paces slowly around the room with arms crossed over her chest, seemingly talking to herself.]


I think everyone would agree that the last event was incredibly difficult. [Who would say otherwise, given the constant risk of suffocation, the odd repetitions of time, the mass of jumbled and confused posts filling the network?] Unfortunately, it’s not going to be the last one that’s hard to bear. Many of the events here put us through terrible things, circumstances that no one should have to face—

So everyone feel worse about it, so you can start to feel better! [She shakes her head at herself as she realizes how that sounds. Toeing the line of truth without being blunt isn’t exactly the easiest thing to do, guys.] Okay, O’Connell. One more time, without making everyone more depressed.

[There’s silence again, Cami mulling over a better introduction. After a few minutes (and a few passes in front of the couch), she nods, bracing herself as she tries again.]

I think after the event we all just went through, everyone would agree that this world is far from a perfect place. But it doesn’t have to be perfect to still be…good. [She smiles, seemingly more satisfied with the opening.] While most of us—no. While many people are understandably eager to go home, the way things stand right now, that’s currently out of our control.

[Her pacing stops, though she smiles still. What comes next is something she’s known for a long time, but only recently truly understood.]

All we can do is try and find a way to live here in the meantime.

[She tucks her hair back behind her ear, weighing the words she’s just said. On the whole, much better than her first attempt, and she resumes walking and thinking aloud.]

And for some people, therapy can be beneficial towards doing that. It isn’t the easiest step to take; a lot of people think going to therapy means something’s wrong with them, that they aren’t good enough somehow. But as hard as it is to admit you need help—might need help—once you do…

[Her voice trails off again. Idly, Cami’s hand reaches up to toy with the pendant she’s taken to wearing as of late: a small cross made of diamonds.

God, the last few months were hard ones.]


Once you do, you’d be amazed how much better things can get.

[But she knows not to say that for real. Her personal experience aside, Cami is well aware that therapy isn’t a magic fix-it button or an immediate cure all. So she’s quick to shake her head, mentally striking that line from her upcoming speech.]

Okay, so less miracle worker at the end, but that wasn’t bad. [Dropping down on the couch, Cami reaches for the phone, meaning to review what she’s just put together, make her changes, practice once more and then broadcast for real.

As such, Wonderland gets a pretty good view of her expression when she realizes that she’s already been sending her message out over the network.]


Is this…oh God. [She groans, resting her free hand against her now reddening face.] It’s already on the network. Well, hi there, Wonderland. Welcome to this behind the scenes look at the therapist in residence embarrassing herself.

[Right. Still recording, Cami. Now is not to die of mortification.]

So obviously that was all supposed to just be practice, but it’s also true. And there is a therapist office on the sixth floor, room twenty if anyone is interested in talking.

[She sighs, but at least the sound ends with a soft laugh. What else can she do at this point?]

And I promise I’ll have the phone put away so this doesn’t happen to you.



{{ooc: Also open to action if you’d prefer to have your character just show up. Cami’s there all day.}}
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.]
shorthair: lonely bones come a calling (lonely shadows following me)
[personal profile] shorthair
[ Clementine debated a lot on whether or not she should use video or text. People see a kid, and they already feel a certain way about that. It might have them keeping some truths to themselves, and it's important that she get all the information she can for this article. It's a matter of life or death. These zombies end up in Wonderland? People will be dropping like flies unless they already know how to deal with it.

However, Georgia talks about truth a lot and how important it is, and the truth is Clementine's a kid who has lived through 2 years of zombies and an apocalypse. It's the truth, and she's been through plenty of shit because of it. She finally decides to do video. She's clearly seated in the library with a notebook at her side and a bunch of recording devices she's only just learned how to use.]


Hi, I'm Clementine. I'm an intern with After the End Times with Georgia and Shaun.

I'm writing a paper about people's zombies or walkers or whatever you call them in your world. If you have the dead coming back to life and trying to eat people, I want to know about it. I want to interview you about it.

I get I'm a kid, but I've already lived through some shit. [She winces. Cursing is probably not professional.] My world's had walkers for over two years.

Don't hold back with me. People will die if this shit's- [GAH] stuff's not right. This is how we can keep people safe when Wonderland gives us an event from one of our worlds. We gather the information. We share it. We teach people how to survive. Even if you come from my world, you might have some tips on survival that I don't know yet so I want to talk to you too.

We can talk here or you can meet me at the library. Georgia said she'd be checking in too so don't be surprised if she pops in on the interview since I'm still learning how to do this part.

action option )
beatupgrass: (✘ that's just bloodloss.)
[personal profile] beatupgrass
[what we have here is a view from Rocket's work bench- the communicator propped up against something, giving everyone a view of the various bits and bobs and the raccoonoid, himself, whose currently taking things apart and putting them back together as he talks.]

So I've been gettin' kinda bored lately, which, incidentally, is bad for everyone's health, if you get what I'm sayin'. [that might sound like a threat, but everyone who knows him well enough knows that he's... just talking about the dangers of his nasty habit of making bombs of varying danger levels and then setting them in the hedge maze to see how fast he can find and disarm them.

that poor hedge maze doesn't deserve that.]


So I figure... what the hell? The crap you get from the closets is just what it is- crap. Ain't got no finesse to it. If you want a real weapon, you gotta get it from an expert. Ergo a guy like me.

[he pauses to snip a few excess wires on the thing he's building.] Normally, I'd charge for this, but this stupid shithole don't got nothin' that resembles an economy, but I figure we can work somethin' out. Events get pretty hairy sometimes. I help you out, maybe you can help me out someday, and we'll call it square and we don't have to get all mushy about it.
nextfate: (★ 28)
[personal profile] nextfate
t e x t
[ Jane doesn't want to potentially upset anyone, not when she knows there are so many people in Wonderland who are eager to go home, or don't want to be stuck here while slowly losing their memories. She's one of them. That's why she's anonymous. But she still wonders something, and it's been coming up a lot more. The only way to know if other people wonder the same things is to ask, right? ]

I've been wondering: people get upset about being here for a long time and losing all of their memories of home, eventually. Does anyone know exactly how long that takes?

Also, is there a specific reason why it matters?

(Other than the big thing, losing yourself, which I get is a huge deal.) But, in theory, even if you forget everything while you're here, as soon as you're home, you remember again. Who you are, where you're from. It all comes back and then it's Wonderland and all the people here you've connected with that you forget.

Right?

I guess I was just wondering if people are as passionate about the ones who would be stuck here in their wake, as they are about the people they miss at home that don't even know they're gone. I can tell you I don't know where I fall half the time.


[ No one's particularly missing her at home, so. ]

a c t i o n

[ It never feels like there's a specific place Jane wants to go in Wonderland when she's restless. Most of the time she finds herself wandering if she has no tattoo appointments, or tucked away somewhere sketching. For today, there's a little bit of browsing in the library (she picks up classic novels this time around plus two cookbooks) before she tucks herself in the main entrance of the mansion with her sketchbook after finding a comfortable, oversized chair. She'd thought to sketch the grand doors and the view from the windows, but instead, her mind has something else in store. The memory she has is fuzzy, but she's sure the person she's sketching is her brother. He has a scar, the same as the boy she remembered months and months ago, and the same as the man in the photo she received in her stocking. It gives her hope that she has a family out there somewhere, even if she doesn't know his name.

When she's done, she goes to the dining room and pulls out one of the cookbooks, flipping to random pages with food that seems worth trying. As she notes what looks good, the dishes appear in front of her until she has a full meal with ample portion sizes. Which prompts a (non-anon this time) text once again, hours apart from her original message with an image attached: ]


Anyone wanna come help me eat this food? Dining room. BYO fork.
angewiesen: (19)
[personal profile] angewiesen
[A new resident can be seen wandering the grounds of the Mansion today. His gait is stumbling, and he holds his right arm at an unnatural angle. He’s wearing some kind of harness that supports a system of weaponry on his body, so strange and specific that its use is unclear. Upon closer inspection, it’s easy to see that there’s something seriously wrong with him. His eyes are unfocused, his clothing is ragged, and he carries a particular stench of blood, death and heat. Despite this, only a few browning spots stain his jacket.]

What in the world…

[His attention is drawn in all different directions. He stares off in the distance over the forest and the hills. The shoreline, too, seems to bewilder him. He’s walking in circles around the Mansion, his neck tilted back as far as it can go to take in its dizzying heights.]

Who the hell built this thing? Titans with wood planes and mortar?

[He takes a few steps back, as if winding back to leap, and reaches up to grab what looks like triggers in holsters under his arms. His left arm makes it, but his right does not. He winces, and cradles it against his chest. Whatever he was about to do, he can’t pull off with a broken arm. He makes a tching noise.]

The fuck am I supposed to do?

[He takes a deep breath, and then plods along his sorry way, his posture drooping. He’s confused, lost, and a little frightened. It’s hard enough to wrap his mind around his own troubles, let alone whatever fever dream his head has conjured up for him now. They say that all soldiers crack eventually, but he never knew the extent of the madness that enveloped those who can no longer comprehend reality.]

[Because we’re all mad here, right?]

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