Video

Jul. 2nd, 2014 04:59 pm
sorta_cinderella: (Default)
[personal profile] sorta_cinderella
 So now that the latest chaos is over, so comes the next stage... The 'comfort' after. I'd like to take the reigns this time, if I may.

[Saki Hanajima is in her room, the device laying against a mirror. She's painting her nails black, taking her time with each finger.]

In Japan, we have a celebration called Tanabata. You write your wishes on paper, and hang them from a bamboo tree. Then the tree and wishes are burnt, sending them off to be granted.

[She pauses to blow air on her pinky finger.]

It's celebrated on the seventh day of the seventh month... I'll take care of the arrangements. I'm sure we all have wishes.

[She waves her hand, another attempt to dry them.]

Hm... I wonder if this means someday Orihime and Hikobishi will arrive... We have so many western fairy tale characters, it seems a tad uneven.
goodnightlisteners: (it's contract negotiation season!)
[personal profile] goodnightlisteners
[Cecil's short broadcast is accompanied by barking, yipping, meowing, hissing, and the occasional fox scream.]

Ugh, so, I wasn't sure at first, but I'm starting to think this event might be mine. At least the dog part--I'm not sure about what's going on with the colors? Feels a bit like my vision is going funny, but I don't know. Judging by people's reactions, though, I'm guessing puppy inf...in...uh...surpluses, aren't as common outside of Night Vale. We tend to get one or two really bad ones once a year back home. I swear, they're worse than cockroaches or feral chickens! At least cockroaches are clean.

[There's a loud yowl from nearby and Cecil's voice gets distant for a moment, as if he's stepped away from the mic.]

I know, Sleipnir, it's terrible, but I'll get rid of them soon, I promise. Just--hey, don't chew that!

[There's a scuffing sound and a clatter and then more barking.]

Anyway, I'm sorry about all this. I don't suppose this place has a pest control service, huh?
climbed: <user name="melocoton"> (тhey will come for you)
[personal profile] climbed
[ bran stark has been told through all of his life that his family's curse is just that--a curse. growing up with the lidells had not been a bad life, save for a terrible fall that left him crippled from the waist down, but it was often a lonely one. while the family was big, they only had each other, and they lived that way because their curse wouldn't allow them to touch anyone who was their opposite gender, or a terrible thing would happen.

but here was the thing: for bran, it wasn't that terrible.

when he bumped into a girl in the middle of the hallway, it had only somewhat been an accident. he didn't quite recognize her, but bran was thrilled with the puff of smoke that followed, because he left his wheelchair (and his clothes) far behind. for as a raven his legs were still useless, but his wings?

his wings stretched on, catching the wind above the great house they've been spending their time in and sailing out through the windows. whoever he ran into would simply have to wonder where he'd gone, as when he was stuck as a raven? well, he could fly.

so, he does, out of the window and through the skies towards the tallest part of the mansion. he used to love to climb as a kid, and this is that but a thousand times better, and he soars through the mansion, ducking down to tug on the occasional dog's tail, feeling light and, well, free as free could be.

all that comes to an end though, and when bran feels the pull of being human again, he alights down on top of the roof. there's a poof and he's back to normal--and very stuck. he sends out a video message that shows just his face, showing a skill with the device that definitely wasn't there before today. there are six or seven ravens around him, just visible in the video feed, cawing and occasionally picking at his hair. bran seems completely unbothered by them as he speaks.]


Hullo. [ how to start this. ] I'm, um. Stuck on the roof. Would someone be able to help me?

[ how embarrassing. ]

{ this will serve as a catchall for the event! if you don't want to reply to the video post that's more than fine--just lemme know you want something different! feel free to run into him as either a raven or a person, although there isn't much "running into" to be done to a kid in a new wheelchair that i can assume he got since this is an AU event ♥. }
checkyourceiling: (I can sit on my ceiling)
[personal profile] checkyourceiling
{The camera clicks on to a young man with messy brown hair and doe-like eyes that go wide when he realizes it's started taping. He fumbles the device and the angle changes bouncing against an arm of a chandelier and plummeting towards the floor. The young man's horrified face can be seen in a glimpse as it falls.

Suddenly with a small thwip sound a thin white cabling is obstructing most of the camera's perspective. Only the light changing and the passing of the wall can be seen as the camera continues to move. Then there are thin fingers tugging and pulling at the white cables, attempting to remove them from the lens. The hole gets slightly bigger, but not much progress is made.

One brown eye returns, crinkling slightly at the edges.
}

So, I'm Peter Parker, and I hope you enjoyed that thrilling show of what not to do with handheld technology. For more fantastic public service announcements I'm betting you know how to reach me better than I know how to reach you.

{The angle changes one last time hitting on an awkward grin before it finally goes dark.}
screeee: (i'm cold)
[personal profile] screeee
[The image is dark because the room is dark, except for the odd smear of pale, dim artificial light. Occasional, because it's blocked by something dark moving in front of the lens, as the camera's adjusted. Then it pans up, there's a flash of something pale on the screen before it's taken up by a glowing yellow eye.

Written words can be ignored. She would have to speak. And sometimes she couldn't get the settings right on this tiny device, but today when it switches to video, she decides to keep it there. Words out loud can be heard, and they can be ignored too, or misunderstood, but seeing how serious this is should help impress on everyone how important answers are.]


[For a moment, that yellow eye glares into the camera, and her breathing is harsh, failing to help her keep calm. There's something distorted under it.

And then there's the voice - it sounds like a young woman, somewhere in there. But it's low with a barely-controlled emotion, anger or something darker or more dangerous. And it's low with something else, an echoing, warped sound, like someone recorded her voice and damaged the tape and played it back too slowly as she talked.]


Where is Cindy's Father?
enchangement: (a shattered mind)
[personal profile] enchangement
[ one of the hallway devices comes on just as a girl with brown hair and eyes just a tad too wide looks away from it. it's hard to tell if she realizes it's on or not, just from her body language; she seems to be ignoring it. ]

I heard the trailing garments of the Night
Sweep through her marble halls!
I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light
From the celestial walls!


[ she moves down the hall with careful, measured steps before suddenly, a pirouette, suddenly, a spin. ]

I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight,
The manifold, soft chimes,
That fill the haunted chambers of the Night,
Like some old poet’s rhymes.


You're not that soft, you know. Not even for chimes. More like a pealing cacophony, an orchestra in nearly 140 counteractive counterproductive musical parts. Give the flutes to the viola players, see how you like the sound.

It isn't night, and this isn't quiet, there's too many of you and not enough of me.

What was calculated in the past does not account for the solution in the present, and all the precipitates have changed.

Hello and hello again.

We're grounded in a child's fantasy all bright colors and mirrored surfaces... [ she pauses here, and peers at the nearest mirror, across the hall from the device, but her eyes are looking right at it in the reflection. ] Reflections and refractions. What makes you so clever, so new?

[ the device switches off there. anyone interested in running into the young ms. tam in person is more than welcome - even if you don't approach her, she's likely to approach you. ]
mamasgirl: (pic#7748405)
[personal profile] mamasgirl
[The video feed cuts on amidst the sounds of random buttons being pressed. After a few seconds, a young girl's dirt-and-bruised-covered face appears on the screen. She's much too close to the camera and it's obvious she has no idea that anyone else can see this.

She pokes at the device once more, causing another series of various noises as buttons are pushed. The sounds bring a delighted smile to her face and she giggles before finally speaking in a way that a toddler typically would, despite her clearly being nearly school age.]


Moooosic. [She pauses then calls out with delight one of the few words she can say with perfect annunciation.]

Victoria!

[At the mention of her sister, the girl's curious gaze and joyful, carefree smile gives way to a sorrowful expression as memories of where she was, what was happening, rush back over her. Victoria said no. Victoria wouldn't go with her. Wouldn't go with Mama.

With a grunt of anger, she throws the device away from her, causing it to land at a slightly skewed angle on the ground. The child can still be seen, though, prowling about on all fours - feet flat on the ground and back arched in a very unnatural manner - as she continues to explore the area of woods where she's found herself.

A sniff of a pine cone, an absent bite of a bit of plant that she chews with smacking lips and zero regard for if it's actually edible or not, and she finally drops back on her haunches while turning her attention to the trees.]


Where Mama? [The words are as much of a whine as they are an order. A heartbeat passes and now she sounds as though she's striking some sort of deal.] Lilly stay. Mama come. [With her mind made up and her gaze still on the trees above, she suddenly reaches out and snatches a bug out of the air. Her attention flickers to the bug and she smiles ever so slightly, watching it crawl across her fingers... before abruptly shoving it into her mouth.

It makes an audible crunch as she begins chewing, doing her best to be patient while waiting for mama to arrive.]
alayne: (pic#7676743)
[personal profile] alayne
[ good morning, wonderland. have one ren-faire lady. her closet had supplied her with a few gowns and as the weather is fair, she wears one in the Southorn style. it has also, thankfully, supplied her with hair dye and today it is loose in chestnut brown waves down her back. ]

People of Wonderland, most gracious and kind.

[ a small smile, perhaps she is a bit more confident. ]

I come to you with a question which may strike as an oddity. The hours of the day are many and long and I am unaccustomed to idleness. The Mansion cares for all our needs, as per our hosts' graciousness.

[ kidnapped or not, at the very least they were not left to starve. ]

Yet I find myself with a lack of a way to help. I am but a baseborn girl, unfitted to assist in the efforts to shield our Mansion from beasts such as the Jabberwocky. To those who do attempt such, Lord Crowley and others, I offer my sincere gratitude.

[ another smile as she inclines her head. ]

I have taken to reading and needle work. I was told to be quite gifted with a thread and a needle. The Mansion sees to our clothes and yet, if you find yourself in need of able hands to stitch and mend whatever clothes you have, you may come see me - On the tenth floor, room 002.

[ a pause. ]

I am also in search of an escort. I wish to see the vendors' offers of fabrics yet I find it unfit for a young girl to go on her own. If there are any who walk there, I would care to join them on their journey.

[ she offers a quick, elegant curtsy. ]

I wish upon you a fine day and a finer week.

Video

May. 1st, 2014 09:02 pm
breakthecurse: A Better Son/Daughter - Rilo Kiley (And your mother's still calling you)
[personal profile] breakthecurse
[This post is coming from outside in the gardens, low to the ground. It’s a beautiful spring day, the sky is very blue, and Tohru Honda is uncharacteristically all in black, though she still seems at least somewhat cheerful. Saki Hanajima is there as well -- it looks like they’re having a picnic.]

Ah, hello everyone. [And she gives a very tiny wave.] I just wanted to let everyone know that I won’t be in the diner today. You see, um --

[There’s some brief fumbling of the camera and a tiny "Excuse me, Hana? Can you hold Mom up, please?". After a moment, a picture appears in view, held up very steady.]

This...this is my mom, Kyoko Honda. She was an amazing and strong, and the most kind and wonderful person I’ve ever known. She raised me all by herself and made the best out of everything life threw her way. If she were here right now, I’m sure she would try and beat up whoever brought us here, and say something like “Who the hell do you think you are kidnapping me and Tohru and Hana and everyone else to this freaking dump?!” or something along those lines. Though, that might be left over from her Red Butterfly days…

[Tohru tried her best Kyoko voice there, but she’s just not capable of that level of intimidation.]

One can never forget the blazing glory left from her motorcycle flapping away in the night…

Anyway, my mom...time is strange here, but counting the time I’ve been here she died three years ago today. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to honor her death last year, because it fell during an event, and I know we can’t go and visit her grave properly, but it doesn’t feel right to not do anything on this day. And I’m really fortunate to have Hana here this time as well!

[And Tohru moves the camera to give Hana some spotlight. Hana makes a peace sign.]

So, um. I’ll be busy today. But I’ll be back in the diner tomorrow! I’m sure everything will be okay without me. Thank you very much for understanding.

Of course, should anything happen to your precious diner, I’m sure the perpetrators would be punished severely…

[And with that, Tohru waves bye to the camera, and gently encourages Hana to do the same before she shuts it off.]

[ooc: Responses will come from either Tohru or Hana (or both!) since they’re having a picnic together.]
screeee: (i'm cold)
[personal profile] screeee
[She's feeling VERY good about herself today! And why not? She's a Big Sister! She might even be the best Big Sister! Dare she say it - Better than Eleanor! (Of course she's better than her, she never does anything!). In fact, she feels like letting everyone know just how talented she is, and so she films a little video for the network!

It's mostly sand as she walks along the late afternoon beach, so it's understandable if the other residents don't realize it's her. Except it's not, because who else could move and sculpt sand with their brain like this? No one!

She's strong, tough, her powers are exceptional, and she is the best Sister. The only thing that might be a little less than perfect is her voice, so as rows of small art deco sand-buildings rise up alongside her, she decides to practice with it (while subtly letting people know who's responsible for this amazing trick).

It's a simple, childish tune the Little Sisters made up for her back home. Well... Her and other Big Sisters, she guesses...]


Big Sister, Big Sister, coming out to play,
You're tall and strong and you always save the day!

[Her voice is admittedly rough from disuse (except for the screaming), and it carries a weird double-voice echo to it. But that just makes it more unique!

... There aren't any Little Sisters here, as she's painfully aware. But there also aren't other Big Sisters here. So she decides it's safe to... tweak the words a little.

She giggles to herself, and a sand skyscraper rises above the sand-city.]


When my sisters need me, I find them right away
I always keep them safe when their daddy goes astray!
And when my sisters are alone, they'll find me very near,
'Cause unlike Mr. Bubbles, I will never disappear!

[She flourishes with a twirl, and the camera pans in a blur from the beach, to the ocean, and then stops over the sand-city again.

You know what, she's just thought of something else to add to this cityscape. A gloved, metal hand reaches into the frame, and sand starts to swirl between the tiny sand-buildings. Some of them lose their edges because of it, but that's okay - wait 'till you see what she's making! She keeps singing to herself cheerily:]


Big Sister, Big Sister, coming out to play,
I'm tall and strong and I always save the day!

When they see me coming with my bright red light
The bad men scream and run away from sight!
And if they don't run fast enough, I'll find them where they hide,
And take back all the ADAM that they keep in their insides!

Bad men, bad men, better run away!
'Cause when Big Sister finds you, she's gonna make you pay!

[The sand has taken the shape of a thin figure with a round diving-helmet and a long spear coming off her wrist. She laughs to herself, then ends the video. The statue collapses when she lets go of it, of course - sand can't stand that thin on its own. The collapsing statue makes a miniature disaster in her miniature sand-city, but that's an easy fix! She puts her helmet back on before getting to work, because the sun's starting to bother her. She keeps humming to herself, though.]
sexandoutrage: (Default)
[personal profile] sexandoutrage

[While it's obvious everyone is oh so busy doing Disney on Broadway with each other, this, however, is entirely more important than whatever the hell it is you people are doing.

There's a squelch of feedback over the communicators, before you all get treated to this lovely little one-up. Everyone else is bragging? This pretty much settles the argument of the best, right?

But it's the actual Black Sabbath recording, not Tony, and for that...Well, it's up to you whether to feel grateful or not. For all you people know, he has a great voice (spoiler: he does).

And it's loud, and only fades to background noise when the video feed cuts on. In it is someone some of you might recognize from movies...Or fifty years worth of comics or...Having to deal with his pompous ass numerous times in that whole saving the world gig. Tony's leaned against a table covered in various power tools, a sledge hammer propped beside him, and there's evidence all behind him that he's been hard at work. There are gaping holes everywhere, wires and cables trailing all over the floor, blinking lights...The works. And he does look mighty proud of himself.]


So I get that we're stuck here, and there's no just demanding to go home. And I get that this is some Tim Burton-envisioned version of Alice In Wonderland. [He leans back and picks up something off the table, which is proven to be one of the pamphlets. Where'd he get it? Don't ask silly questions.] And I get the closets, the dying thing - which, for the record, is entirely messed up - the people from fictional worlds and other times and whatever else was in this thing.

So basically what you guys are saying in this thing- [He taps the corner of the pamphlet, before tossing it behind him.] Is that we're probably trapped in some kind of wormhole. If not a wormhole, some kind of extra-dimensional black hole pocket or something. Seriously, is there no one here that's considered that? Is this place pulling the best of the best from places or just grabbing you guys randomly and so no one's had this thought rattle through their head? I mean, that was my first guess, minute one.

Anyway, since we're stuck here. And since that pamphlet is just informative enough to either piss someone off or confuse the hell out of them, I got some questions to anybody that can answer them. Fill in the blanks a little better, if someone who actually knows what's going on has the time.

[He moves to cut the feed, but pauses a second, before leaning back once more.] Oh, and guys, if any of you happen to be here - highly doubtful, but worth a shot - basement.

[And then he finally cuts the feed.]

ausdauer: (pic#7688740)
[personal profile] ausdauer
I'm the best physical fighter here, period.

[The look on her face is stern, dead but certainly confident as if there was nothing else worth noting.]
itsahotone: (Default)
[personal profile] itsahotone
[Guess who's in a tutu, twirling across the main entrance hall?

No, Kurt Hummel is not back.

It's Santana Lopez, suddenly shorter and younger and nicer! Her ballet twirls are inexperienced, but she has pretty good form. She's humming to herself, grinning. Which is not a usual sight for the normal Santana, so now would be a great time to meet up with her, hint hint!]


Ow!

[...Okay, so she just tripped over who-knows-what. She's still in a good mood.]


(replies from itsayoungone cause I am so clever with these account names)
sorta_cinderella: (Default)
[personal profile] sorta_cinderella
Image and video hosting by TinyPic

Quiet... Quiet... Quiet... Please be quiet...

[Young!Saki Hanajima has run away from the playground, and is now huddled in a corner, sitting near the front doors of the mansion - although, as a frightened child, she could be hiding anywhere, feel free to change the location to suit your needs. But no matter where she is, it's all the same - the little girl is rocking back and forth, hands on her ears. Unlike the 'teen' Saki, who displays no emotion, this Saki is sobbing, having tossed her device on the ground after she realized she couldn't call Mommy and Daddy.

Also, unlike the older version, she cannot control her powers - everyone's emotional 'waves' are slamming into her mind like screams. A word of caution - push her buttons too hard, and she might wind up hurting you. For now, it sounds more like she thinks she deserves to be punished.]

I'll go to jail... I'll let the police take me... Just be quiet, all of you...
naturalbornleader: (ickle :: somber)
[personal profile] naturalbornleader
[For several seconds after the video cuts on, there's nothing but a pair of tiny feet wearing white and pink sneakers with slightly scuffed toes. There's a bit of rustling about in the background, and a slight whimper of what sounds like a child, before finally a small hand covers the entire screen as it hefts the device off the ground.

A bit more moving things around and finally a face comes into view. The girl is frowning in concentration and there's a couple of random button smashes before she starts speaking. Her tone is forceful - the sort of sound a child makes when trying Very Hrad to be brave.]


I don't know where I am or who took me or why or none of that but you better take me back right now before my daddy finds out!

[Her lower lip trembles and she sniffles once. Her voice wavers slightly when she speaks again.]

His name's Lee. Lee Chambers. And he's gonna be super mad when he comes back ho- [a pause because nope, where they're staying these days isn't home; they don't have a home anymore] just back and finds me gone so take me back right. now.

[There's a brief pause before she offers a watery, semi-smile.]

And you're park's real nice, too. [She scowls.] But I wanna go back to my daddy now.

[With that, the transmission ends. Anyone who wants to stumble across the now pint-sized Krissy will find her, obviously, hanging around the park. Well, more like somewhere near the park, with it still in sight but not actually in it. She isn't going to just sit on the swings and wait for some weirdo to come by and grab her. She might be six but she's smarter than that.]

[ooc: all replies will be via [personal profile] futurehunter which is bitty!krissy's journal]
becauseihaveto: (Default)
[personal profile] becauseihaveto
[When the camera cuts on, there's a young girl's face staring into it. There's a flash of the library behind her. Her gaze cuts swiftly off-screen, confirming that she's doing it right and the thing really is recording, before she looks back at her audience once more. She doesn't smile but doesn't look upset, either. She's very nearly emotionless, in fact, and far too still than any child should be.

When she speaks, her voice is soft and is curiously calm and collected rather than carrying the typical whine or panic that most twelve-year-old girls would likely have in this situation.]


I won't bother to ask where I'm at. [She took the time to scroll back on the network to figure that much out for herself.] And I won't ask if anyone is here that I might know. [If Owen were here, she'd have picked up his scent or he would have been posting himself, looking for her.] I just need to know if we're assigned rooms or if we just pick one ourselves.

[There's a brief pause, where most would likely draw a breath. She doesn't but does seem to debate on whether to ask something else. Finally she decides to just go for it.]

And if there's a medical area of some kind, I'd like [no, wrong word choice] I need to know about that, too. [Because medical areas have blood, right? She hopes so.

She also stops speaking at that point and waits for someone to respond. It doesn't really occur to her that people might seek her out face-to-face, but it wouldn't necessarily be unwelcome. She'll just be hanging out in the library, thumbing through the works of Shakespeare, waiting to find out how she's supposed to lay claim to a room so she can prepare it for the upcoming sunrise.]
bottlearum: (We are a call to all)
[personal profile] bottlearum
[ Jack Sparrow is in the library.

However, he's not here looking for a book. No, he's here for a different kind of information, a kind that can't be found on the shelves of Wonderland's library. Spurred on by Tom's truly horrific event, as well as Mark's post earlier, Jack comes to you now, Wonderland, with a plea for knowledge. With a few sheets of loose-leaf paper and a pen in front of him, Jack solemnly turns to the network.
]

I've been thinkin'. These past few weeks ain't exactly been easy on anyone. And rightfully so. This past event was...

[ He looks down. He's not pitying, if anything, he's looks more sympathetic. He wasn't one of the victims, but he has been murdered before. You can thank Elizabeth Swann and Davy Jones for that one. ]

...well, I believe terrible is a suitable underestimation, eh? But! [ He holds out his index finger. ] If we're to prevent this from happenin' again, we've gotta be prepared, aye?

Knowing all there is to know about each other's world is helpful, yes, but it don't mean nothin' if we don't know what's comin' next.

Here's what I propose. [ Jack gestures with both of his hands as he speaks, waving them all about himself. ] If we can figure out who's already had events, and what those events were, we might be able to find a pattern and predict what's gonna happen next, especially if we've got information on everyone's worlds.

After all, it's easier to predict the future when you know the past. So, if anyone who's...

[ Jack picks up the pen beside him, about to write something on the sheets of paper in front of him. But, it's not the kind of pen he's used to writing with. There's a button at the end of it and, completely distracted from whatever he had been saying, Jack pushes it.

Click. The writable part of the pen pops out of the front.
] ... [ Jack pushes it again. Click.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Guess who just discovered clicky pens, Wonderland.
]

56: video

Feb. 27th, 2014 12:05 am
paper_knight: (endgame desk)
[personal profile] paper_knight
[Mark's filming himself again, in a quiet corner of the library. He makes an effort to look at the camera head-on--to project trustworthiness--but his tone is quite subdued, all the same.]

'Evening.

I--ah--I know this is coming a bit late to help with everything that's happened. I'm truly sorry about that. But I'd appreciate a minute or two of everyone's time, all the same.

We all know events--or crashes, I guess--draw on aspects of our memories, or our worlds. Often the worst of them. The network is a wonderful tool for warning people, if one of us recognizes something familiar, but sometimes people don't hear in time, or are cut off. So. A while back, Souji and I hit upon the idea of collecting everyone's speculations about what dangers we might bring with us from our worlds, and putting it somewhere everyone could access it.

[Adding it to the network database, say, or the notebooks, although he's not going to mention that publicly.]

For instance, I came here from an underwater ruin full of superhuman madmen. [He winces a little as he says it. It's been years now, and it still sounds crazy, especially in brief like that.] I'm currently recording everything I can remember of the place, and when I'm done I'll put the file on the network.

I'm happy to talk now, or anytime. But if you want to write something up and share it anonymously, I've got a low-tech solution here. [He gestures at a heavy metal lockbox sitting on the table beside him.]

You can leave whatever you want here, and I'll come back for it later. Or just slip it under my door. I'm in room three, second floor. And I promise not to trace you.

[He's picked up some momentum and confidence--projects have that effect on him--but here he falters again.]

At the moment I've got no way of knowing whether what winds up here is trustworthy. I'm all right with that--I'd rather have a mass of information with some flaws than nothing at all--but I'd welcome suggestions to...streamline this. If anyone has them.

Thanks, everyone. Please be safe.
ahousedivided: nightmare! (See you in my recurring Hunger Games)
[personal profile] ahousedivided
not ic cut; cut for gore )


[ And if you thought it would end there, you clearly have not been around America long enough. Not five minutes later a text appears on the network. ]

THEY GOT AWAY IM SO MAD HE TOOK MY HEAD DO U KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO TYPE WITHOUT A HEAD THOSE WERE CUSTOM FRAMES I WILL GET A NEW HEAD BUT THOSE GLASSES ARE IRREPLACEABLE NOW WHEN I HAVE EYES AGAIN I WONT BE ABLE TO SEE WITH THEM BECAUSE MY GLASSES WILL BE RUINED AND I DONT KNOW MY PRESCRIPTION

HE RUINED MY VALENTINE PLANS AND KILLED MY FRIEND AND I HAD THIS NICE CARD FOR MY SWEETHEART AND HE SHOVED IT IN MY CHEST BECAUSE IT WAS HEART SHAPED HA HA VERY FUNNY NOW ALL THE LACE IS COVERED IN BLOOD

>:(

>:(

I MUST MAKE FACES OF RAGE WITH TEXT BECAUSE I HAVE NO FACE TO FROWN WITH IF ONLY I HAD MY GUN I WOULDVE SHOT HIM HE IS A SLIPPERY FUCKER IM GONNA KILL HIM

VENGEANCE >:(


[ ooc: a small note that I'll be gone for the weekend to Katsucon so tags may not happen between Friday and Sunday, but I'll be right back on board once the con is over! ]

[video]

Feb. 10th, 2014 08:32 pm
lowkeyangel: (☀ lean)
[personal profile] lowkeyangel
[Gabriel's hanging out in the bar. There's a tall glass of something bright next to him, half-demolished, but he doesn't seem to be paying it too much attention. His attention's on the video itself.

Watch out, Wonderland. You have a bored archangel on your hands. Anything could happen.]


So. Afterlives. Hit me.

What does your little corner of the multiverse believe in? Reincarnation? Sitting on clouds? Being literal soulfood for a dark, malevolent entity? Fiery pits?
paper_knight: (endgame desk)
[personal profile] paper_knight
On the second night of the event Mark is crouched against the far wall of his room, waiting for the midnight broadcast. He knows instinctively that this will lead to nothing good, but the promise of seeing Cindy again--even another blurry silhouette--has overridden good sense.

He watches the broadcast quietly at first, mesmerized by the clear picture. His heart knots--purely metaphorically--at how thin she is, at her dirty feet and yellow eyes, but it doesn't frighten him anymore. This is what he's permitted, he'll accept it gladly.

That's before the muttering starts, cracked, coaxing voices asking her to slow down, don't be selfish, share some ADAM sweetheart--Mark doesn't need to hear this. He surges to his feet and fumbles at the television controls to no avail, clenches armored fists and pounds on what should be flimsy wood and electronics but most definitely is not. The broadcast continues. Mark makes a strangled, animal noise.

Onscreen a twisted figure drops from the ceiling, something sharp and glinting in either hand. Cindy shrieks, starts to run; the screen goes dark, and immediately shatters, yanked from the wall and thrown to the ground.

The sounds Mark makes as he takes his room apart are audible a few doors down in any direction: splintering wood; crash of broken class; metallic thuds and clangs. It'll be worst for his downstairs neighbor, whose ceiling might suffer some structural damage before Mark gets ahold of himself.

When he's done he stalks out into the hallway, tall and broad enough in his makeshift armor to fill the space. He leaves his door open, hanging awkwardly from one hinge.The cameras catch him on his way outside, but he won't respond to network calls. In fact, beyond the unavoidable heavy footsteps, he's eerily quiet.

((Interested parties can intercept Mark in person or explore the open room after all the ruckus. Just specify for me in the response or subject line!))
screeee: (EEK)
[personal profile] screeee
[On the stairs between the third and second floor, there's a... Thing that might look familiar to some people. We're not talking about the slinky flip-flopping down the steps, or the pretty, if old-fashioned looking doll seated at the top of the stairs, but the lanky, armoured... person sitting with them.

Granted, they're probably more familiar with her screaming and growling and making a lot of noise down by the docks, and not... However she's like now. Her light doesn't seem as bright and as red, but that could be from her being in the nice, well-lit decor of the mansion instead of the beach at night. Her armour isn't even as rusty - though it's obviously worn in places and tarnished in others - with the cleanest spot being a little round medal with #3 engraved on it, recently bolted to her shoulder-guard. The needle is even absent! (But not the rest of the apparatus, or the other, smaller spear on the other wrist.)

And that's... all she's doing, watching her slinky go down the steps and then jumping down after it, picking it up, bounding back to the top of the stairs, and sending it down all again. The doll doesn't seem to be more than a spectator to this game.

Pretty harmless so far, even with the armour and reputation. Er- all the same, you might want to postpone whatever business you have on the second or third floor, if you don't want to get too close to her.]
paper_knight: (jones beach)
[personal profile] paper_knight
At first there’s nothing but darkness and crashing waves. Then low, speaker-buzzing groaning. Too deep. Unsettling. Inhuman.

But this isn’t right, is it? This isn’t a person.

There’s a howl of static: a badly played theremin, a radio clumsily tuned. The pitch of the voice rises, grows hoarse and pained.

Better.

More tuning. The sufferer takes a deep breath--and promptly chokes on seawater.

There’s quite a lot of panicked and undignified splashing after that, during which the broadcasting device tumbles into the breakers.

The camera view eventually clears to reveal a gently swaying view of the night sky--and the sound of retching.

On the beach, Mark Meltzer sits stiffly back on his heels and wipes his mouth. He’s very cold and very wet, and there are some distressing blank spots in his immediate memory. But he remembers Cindy. She was right there, he’d held her--and she needed help, needed a cure that for all he knew might not exist. Everything else can wait--he’s got to find her.

He jerks to his feet and manages a few long, purposeful strides along the shoreline before he comes across the comm device, bobbing in the incoming tide. He blinks at it. Scoops it up.

“Oh.” Realization. One or two of those blank spots jar into focus. Anger, fear, loss. “Oh, no.”

He could--should--call for help, find out who’s still out there, how long he’s been gone, get back to work. Instead he folds slowly forwards, arms wrapped tight around his ribs, and starts to cry.
nascensibility: this one is my favourite (like the rose that buds and blooms)
[personal profile] nascensibility
[If there's anyone in Wonderland who has remained a constant throughout Evelyn's residency, it's Mark Meltzer. Twice he has welcomed her back with a smile and an offer of tea, a gentle and understanding tone and the reassurance that everything would turn out all right. (It had to, there were no ifs, ands, or buts.) It stands to reason that he'd be in his room when Evelyn drops by to visit in the late afternoon, a stack of borrowed notes in hand as she turns the knob and-

-and promptly drops everything she's carrying, because the only thing left behind in an empty room are a few sheets of wrinkled paper with a child's crayon masterpieces.

Cindy's drawings.

Slowly, stiffly gathering everything together again - files and sketches alike - Evie clutches the folders to her chest and shuts the door behind her, a yawning chasm left in Mark's absence. She has long since become accustomed to the way that Wonderland works, but a place like this only becomes manageable when you have a reliable system of support.

It feels as though her foundation has crumbled.
]

Hello, erm...I'm not certain how many of you knew him, but- but it appears that Mark Meltzer has left us.

[Making the announcement is even harder, but he knew people. They might want to know in return.]

I-I have a few reams of his notes on- [Here she laughs weakly and rubs at one eye. You're not going to cry, old mum.] -on theories regarding Wonderland, if...if anyone would like to borrow them, please do contact me. He'd like people to be informed.
screeee: (THOUGHTS)
[personal profile] screeee
((changing the dates to not step on the event))

[It had been cold, not too long ago. Very cold. Cold like it was at home, closer to the surface than the cool warmth of her home. Was it winter, then? If it was ... It had been even longer since she found her father at the surface... and since she had left the city.

She should have gone back, but... She couldn't.

Not without her father.

She practically led him there once, already, and that was pushing the rules. To do so again... That had only been a dream, too - (it had to be - she didn't die, she was alive, and she was a good girl!) - but it was still a strong reminder of the consequences. This place was strange, the waters were wrong, and her dreams were only getting worse in the silence. She couldn't hear them - what if something happened back home? And she was dallying up here?!

She'd given him enough chances to make it down here on his own. She had a feeling he was still - willing to look for her, for his daughter - it was that last dream where they both searched together that gave her that feeling, mostly, which was silly... But She wanted it to be true. No, it had to be true (even if the other dream was false).

She sets to work again. The beach is empty, so she should be safe...]

[Every night for the next three days, red lights flash along the beach, something jumps into and out of the water, and runs along the sand with heavy footsteps. The footsteps get closer to the mansion in little bursts of action, when night starts to become very early morning, and then start to wander back. The 'waiting time' before they retreat gets longer, until the third day, but they've always left the gardens by sunrise.

But that's not the only thing left at sunrise - there is a message written in the sand, in strange letters. It's different each morning.]


DAY ONE )

DAY TWO )

DAY THREE )


((ooc: Here is another Big Sister Code post! I put the translations in alt text (which is working now!), but if you want to translate yourself (and say your character figured it out *wink*), here's a decoder!

More importantly, your characters are free (encouraged, even!) to investigate those strange lights and sounds! But whatever time of day, don't get too close to those messages or sand sculptures - you don't want to end up like that other girl(/s?), do you? Of course not!))
screeee: (WATCHING)
[personal profile] screeee
[Remember, all those weeks ago, when a horrible shriek echoed through Wonderland? It's here again, but closer - inside the former mansion. With you. <3

It starts from a room on the first floor, with banging and crashing and general sounds of destruction. The enraged screaming does stop, but the thumping and crashing doesn't - it just moves into the hallway, and further into the school.

It eventually stops in the gymnasium. Not the sounds - but whatever's making them seems to have settled there for the time being.

Some video either helpfully provided by terminals, security cameras, or her own communicator (pitched carelessly to the side, sitting amongst some smaller and less interesting debris) shows a gangly, diving-suit-clad figure throwing fireballs at the walls and windows, as well as pieces of gym equipment, from volleyballs to basketball nets - and not all of them with her hands. Some of them fly through the air physically unaided, only to smash or bounce or crush against the walls and barred windows.

She screams again, and jumps out of sight of the camera, but the noises of destruction are still audible. Especially if you're by the gym.]
airshipswank: (I answer for my will to no man)
[personal profile] airshipswank
{ See, I'm back again... } )

{ III. VIDEO } [ And so his last act for the day, once he has changed into something more suitable, is to casually show himself on the network, as though he never left for even a day! ]

We have... artists here, I imagine? Painters, at least one of them, I should hope. I'll have a small task for them, should they be interested in ways to pass their time, or... earn a reward.

[[OOC: Whoops, that took me a bit longer than I imagined, but Buckingham is finally back. Anybody who wants to interact with him can either run into his action thingies in I and II, or answer his transmission in III.]]
screeee: (SISTER ON BOARD)
[personal profile] screeee
[Time was hard to tell back home, even without the loose grasp on unimportant memories. But between the currents, the ocean's temperature, the length of the sunlight... It was... August. August 25th.

It was her sister's birthday.

Had it been that long already? Her daddy was slower than she thought.

The last time it was her birthday, she had to leave a present to get him looking faster. He had taken so long already - she almost thought he had forgotten or given up like the rest. But he had been making so much progress - and Cindy didn't think so.

She believed her. But she had her doubts - so they left another message. And a present, to keep him searching, to remind him who he was looking for.

And it had worked! He left, he was on the ocean - she even saw him sometimes. And he even made it to their home! She saw him there, and he saw her and saw her! Cindy was right, after all!

But when she had tucked Cindy away and went on her swim - and got lost, and wandered onto the surface - he was not WHERE HE SHOULD BE.

Why had he gone back? Had he forgotten? Did he not care anymore?!

... After their last encounter - no, he didn't seem to have forgotten. But why was he here? Why was he still here?

Maybe he needed another reminder.

She leaves him another present.

...Has Found Its Way To Me My Dear )

The sand is too difficult to work with and her grasp on fine telekinesis is too shaky, so there's only the shape of a sand carousel beside it - no bulbs or poles or pretty carved horses. But it should be enough - he was smart, almost as smart as his daughter as Cindy. It should be enough, he should remember.

She gets impatient, waiting for him to check out the beach. But she has been experimenting with her funny little radio-typewriter-television, and she's certain she can...


A picture will appear on the network. It's on a funny angle, some of the message is even cut off, and the focus is maybe a little iffy. All it is are these odd letters scratched in the sand.

What does it mean?

You'll have to ask Mark. Because if she just gave the key away, why bother with the lock?]

((ooc: This post can be replied to any way you want! If it's action, there's nothing on the beach but the sand writing and sculpture, but there may be a suspicious shape and/or red light under or beside the dock wink wink))
strategisch: (maybe he's born with it)
[personal profile] strategisch
[Armin often visits the shoreline, so it's not unusual at all to meet him here. He sits with his legs tucked up to his chest, boots off, waves lapping at his feet. Sometimes for hours.]

[Those who know him might notice one small difference however; his clothing. His uniform looked more or less the same, but he was missing his green cape, and the emblem on his jacket was not blue-and-white wings, but two crossed swords.]

[He looks to his communicator at his side. His eyes, normally so bright with intelligence and curiosity seem unsettlingly dead.]


No one had ever told me... Is it true that this is the ocean?

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