screeee: (i'm cold)
[personal profile] screeee
[It's been weeks since she left. Since she went away. since she let her go

She fled to land, crawled ashore, hid in this great big house (right-side-up, and not as big as home), and stopped. Sitting in her new home, her smaller home, in a room that was dank and musty like the one she grew up in, lined with drawings from her Sisters... old and new, living and eaten...

The drawings were not perfect. But they were enough to help her remember the girls they imitated. Her memory didn't always work right, so any reminder was good, even if there was an undercurrent of wrong to it.

The reminders were good. Her memory wasn't, so the reminders were good. But they weren't. They made her think, about them, about her, about him... And she wonders.

Was it worth that burst of happiness from her Little Sister, when she took her father's hand and followed him away?

no. it wasn't.

she missed her.]

[It's late on the first day, when a plain text post appears on the network, with hardly anything to identify who it was from:]

How do you live without your Sisters?

[ (This version of her has also had had the time and calm to figure out the shift key.) ]
lowkeyangel: (☀ a-hah!)
[personal profile] lowkeyangel
[If you think you can hear music, that's probably because you can. If you're paying attention to your comm, or you're near a certain hallway of the mansion, at least. The tune may or may not sound familiar, but it's most definitely coming from a sudden forest that seems to have sprouted up overnight.

Well. Maybe 'field' is a better term.

It's no ordinary field, of course. Those giant roses, daffodils, tulips and pansies (and many more) are definitely the ones doing the singing. And they have very fine voices indeed, harmonizing together and swaying with the beat. In fact, the flowers spill farther than just the one hallway, but not too much. The main issue here is that the flowers are as big as dinner plates, and they seem to have faces of a sort. But some lie in piles of petals - Wonderland's already started to beat them back, it seems. You may find navigating the hallway to be difficult, given that the flowers seem intent on swaying with anyone who strolls by.

The creator of this chaos is sitting, casually, in a lawn chair next to a blue pansy.]

I hear they take requests. But you'd have to ask them.

[Apparently Gabriel's tired of the blood and confusion and has gone right for balancing it out with silly.]
kingofnightmares: (What an adorable dream.)
[personal profile] kingofnightmares
[The feed flickers on to reveal silver eyes, peering into it. It looks pretty dark, but a figure can be made out through it. The man on screen has gray skin, silver eyes, jagged teeth, and raven black hair. He purses his lips, looking to be confused.]

How on earth...? I'm able to touch things again. This can’t be right. [He holds the device farther away from his face with one hand, running the other through his hair.]

I was reduced to almost nothing. Again.[A pause.] Perhaps it's this place. Whatever this place is, it is making me whole once more. Then that might mean people can see me. [He almost chuckles, grinning.]

If the Man in the Moon isn’t in charge of whatever world this is, then perhaps I can start anew. A world without those blasted Guardians.

[A pair of golden eyes peer over his shoulder, a snort audible through the feed. Pitch glances back and smiles as the horse-like creature behind him nuzzles his cheek.]

Mn, yes, this will be an excellent start for us.
onsilksheets: (pic#3852512)
[personal profile] onsilksheets
[Before making any kind of public address, Bela found herself in one of the tea rooms at random whilst she was exploring her new found 'home.' The truth was, she had been here about two days, spending most of her time snooping rather than speaking to anyone else. But one could only find out so much by themselves before they were forced to ask around.

When the feed clicks on, it shows Bela with a china cup in one hand and a biscuit in the other. She's attractive, her hair a light brown colour and if you looked close enough you'd notice the greenness of her eyes. Bela finishes the biscuit off, taking delicate, ladylike bites from it before brushing the crumbs away.

Now she's ready to talk.

What kind of place doesn't have an exit? That's something I've been asking myself the past few days while I was exploring this quaint little mansion.

[The English accent is clear and for once Bela isn't faking one nor playing a role. She is serious this time.]

It's beginning to frustrate me, being unable to go back the way I came. I can't stay here, I refuse to and I need to know the way out. [She holds back, reigning her anger in as much as possible. Not a good way to endear people to her, even if she didn't particularly care about their opinion.]

Now if anyone could help a girl out, I'd be ever so grateful.

[The last part is overly sweet and sickeningly so. Completely unlike her.]

((ooc:Feel free to action it up in the tea room! :D))
manhunthotline: (keep it down over there!)
[personal profile] manhunthotline
[With oddly apropos timing, given the recent appearance of the traveler, detective Benny Stango has arrived in the middle of a conversation with Mark Meltzer's answering machine--his last conversation with either it or the man himself, in fact. Without his noticing, the ground has changed under his feet from damp concrete to carpet, and the pay phone he's been clutching has been replaced by the Wonderland standard-issue communicator unit.

So the network gets treated to a low voice, sharp with panic and thickly-accented (the Bronx, if anyone was wondering). And he's shouting. Despite years of smoking, the man has a set of lungs on him.]

--Jesus, Meltzer, what is that thing?! I took a shot at it, it didn't even flinch! I ran the whole way back to the squad car--yeah, I gotta remember to clean the seat--jesus, Meltzer, I never believed you were right, I'm sorry! Just gimme a c--

[The voice stops, almost cut off. Stango's looked up, finally noticed the change.]

What the hell...?

[At least he's still blissfully ignorant of the whole hellhound issue.]


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