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

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


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

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

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



[Private to Georgia and Shaun Mason; Unhackable]

I know you're both here, I looked. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
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.
singloversing: Into the Ocean - Blue October (Relaxed and floated into space)
[personal profile] singloversing
--No, no, no! Ugh, seriously?

[At first everything is dark, but then there are little shifts that produce light until finally something is lifted off of the camera and Wirt is there, looking down at the camera with some mild concern. There's a Norton Anthology of English literature in his hands (volume two, first edition).]

I hope I didn't break it...what even happens when you break these things anyway?

[He doesn't seem to realize that the camera has been turned on, and isn't paying attention to the little red recording light. Instead, he sets his book aside in a tall stack - a stack that fell right on the network device earlier. Satisfied that it won't fall again, Wirt turns his attention back to his notebook. He reads his work quietly, but just loud enough to be picked up by his network device.]

Hm...alright, so.

Wonderland's eternal winter,
thawed for mere moments,
into a lush greenery and warmth
that spreads through each limb and vein
tingling in fingers and toes.

And in that reprieve of winter
I forget myself.
I mix and swirl with what both is
and is not me,
dwell on what I am
and what I never was.

I am a raging river
waiting for the world to freeze again--


[He stops and frowns.] Wait. That's dumb. Water still moves under ice...

[For a moment, he tries to think of a way to save it, but in the end he scribbles out the last stanza entirely. He still doesn't seem to realize he's being recorded.]
failedparenting: (28s: Character development engage!)
[personal profile] failedparenting
[Hey Wonderland, it's John Winchester back at it again. He's looking a little thinner that the last time he addressed the network, a little more bearded. Like he's been through a sickness recently but he's working through it.]

So, coming off the tail end of all that, the new year, and some shiny new meat, I think maybe it's time to go over some rules they don't tell you about in your nice little welcome packet.

[No offense to the people who work on that. But really, it doesn't have the important shit. As he goes, he holds his fingers off, ticking each point one by one. Take notes. ]

First, it won't help your sorry ass when this place decides to rewrite your mind, but always keep a stockpile of food. Cans, non-perishables, bottled water, dry beans, that kind of crap. Keep a knife and matches with it too. Basic survivalist shit. You never know when the closets are gonna rebel.

Second, learn how to use a gun. I can show you how, or Jo over in the bar, or whoever, but you need to know. Keep that handy, too.

Make some goddamn friends. I don't give half a crap if you're some lone wolf badges back home, you're not gonna survive without someone watching your back.

Stay away from those vendors, the ones out there who don't deal on money? Nothing they could give you is worth it. Fuck 'em.

[John makes a face- even thinking about those fuckers gives him the creeps.]

And finally, don't fuck with the library. Don't even entertain the idea of getting fire near it. Don't kill anyone in the goddamn library. And Jesus Christ, don't piss off the librarian. I'm not joking.

[And then, since he's never been one for conclusions or wrapping up nice and neat, he kills the feed.

There you go. Dad advice.]
adaptiveimmunities: (Default)
[personal profile] adaptiveimmunities
It's going to be short and sweet this time, everyone. George and I really enjoyed the holidays, and candy-kid? Thanks. Super, sugared-up thanks.

But this isn't about the nice presents (which again--thanks). We each got a thumb drive in our stockings with a lot of numbers and words that this dumb Irwin is just too dense to understand, even with George's help. So we were both wondering if there are any science types out there with expertise in virology or human cloning, who can make the long fancy words into something a little more accessible.

Thanks in advance.

P.S. If you're listening, Wonderland Santa? I'm looking for a rocket launcher in my Easter basket. I'll settle for grenades.
bigbad: (so much clearer)
[personal profile] bigbad
[Canny viewers might recognize the room Spike's sitting in as the office of Angel's Investigation. Spike is, in fact, sitting on a desk, boots banging against the side as he smirks into the cameras.]

Hey, mates. Thought I ought to let you know that Angel's Investigation is under new management. [He jabs a thumb towards himself.] Sure, Angel's all right as a leader, but some people want a bit more brains and a bit less forehead, know what I mean?

[Has anyone agreed to this change in staff? No. Does anyone from Angel's team even know he's here, in Wonderland? Absolutely not. Is that going to stop Spike? Not for a second. It'll make Angel mad, and that's hilarious.]

So come on over for all your mystery solving needs. We take beer and smokes as payment. One thing's sure: with me in charge it'll be a lot more fun getting your mysteries solved. Cheers!

[He salutes and disconnects.]

[Video]

Jul. 18th, 2015 05:55 pm
formerlydangerous: (Sizzling Cross)
[personal profile] formerlydangerous
[Hi Wonderland. There's a sizzling vampire on the other end of the video feed, holed up in... somewhere in the mansion. He looks annoyed. He usually is when Wonderland plays these games.]

Those rips in reality? Yeah, steer bloody clear of those! Bad enough they decided to relocate the kitchen and dining room out in the middle of bloody nowhere, but now these fancy little rips can drop a bloke from the hallway to the forest in broad daylight! Not a fun run back to the mansion if you're of the night-walking sort!

[Spike... has pretty much already announced a few times that he's a vampire over the network, so this shouldn't come as much of a surprise to most. He just doesn't care.]
therapize: (not amused)
[personal profile] therapize
[If Cami looks somehow less than pleased when she starts the video feed, it's because she is. Whatever happened to Wonderland overnight has already been aggravating enough in terms of the missing kitchen and dining room (and subsequently, breakfast), but she could at least count on the coffeemaker in her office to for her morning fix.

Until she discovers that apparently, the three rooms have run off together to indulge in an illicit affair, leaving her high, dry, and uncaffeinated.]


I'm not sure if this is supposed to be another event, since there hasn't been an announcement yet again, but my office is gone, along with the kitchen and the dining room. [She pans the camera to the utterly undecorated room before turning it back towards herself. Don't be fooled by the grin, Wonderland: this is not the picture of a happy therapist.]

So for anyone looking for the therapy office normally located on the sixth floor? You're not alone! [She huffs out a sigh, dropping the sarcasm in favor of seriousness.] Just--reply to this if you need to see me, and we'll figure out some place to meet. In the meantime, I'm going to be looking for coffee and any trace of my missing practice. Also possibly the bar just to make sure it's still there for all our sakes.

[And with that, the feed cuts out. She's serious about the search, however. There's a lot of effort that's gone into the practice so far, and more importantly, a number of confidential files she'd like to get back before anyone else has a chance to go peeking. The problem is knowing where to start in an infinitely large mansion that frequently violates any known rules of reality, which is why her first stop is the coffee shop on the first floor.

This is not going to be a problem she addresses without some sort of brew in her system.

As it turns out, there's another bonus to the addiction; only a few doors down from the coffee place is a familiar sight, but only to people from her version of New Orleans. Thinking it's just the closest empty room, Cami walks in only to discover a scene straight from her past: the interior of an old, historic church. St. Anne's, a place Cami hasn't seen in monthsthe sight of which now has her stopping cold just beyond the open door. Yet it isn't exactly as she remembers it, at least not from that last visit. No, this variation seems to have come with all the bloodstains that had been left for months after her brother's tragic end. Even in the dim lighting the deep red stands out, an unwanted reminder from home that promises Cami won't be going anywhere for awhile yet.

No, once she gets past the shock, she'll do what her uncle had done back home: slowly work on restoring the church to what it once was, despite knowing that it can never be that place again.]

text;

May. 24th, 2015 07:42 pm
desertsage: credit: <user name="desertsage"> ({5})
[personal profile] desertsage
Back home, I used to teach the children of Vega about our past and our hope for the future. That one day, humanity would be saved and we could rebuild again.

[She doesn't want to speak or show her face, preferring to use text.]

I want to see that day come, but being here is preventing that and I think I'm struggling a little. I'm the kind of person who does her best to rise above any doubts. Guess I'm having a bad day today.

[Being here also meant that her baby, Alex's baby would never be born. It was probably the hardest thing to deal with.]

I know I'm not the only person who has bad days here so if you have any advice on what I should do, please share it. Thank you.
glumshoe: no really what sartorial pandora's box did he have to open to find these (bought a fashion sense)
[personal profile] glumshoe
[ This face is not one the network sees often. Those few that know Will Graham would see a change, something subtle but large, fundamental in the way he speaks and carries himself now. Like buildings, tearing down the decrepit and unsustainable and constructing the new framework of steel. What killed Will made him stronger, in the end.

To everyone else, someone small and very sleep-deprived and plaid seeks the collective knowledge, eyes, and ears of Wonderland for a very important search.
]

Not to interrupt serious affairs, but if anyone happens to come across a stray dog [ he attaches a photo to the message ] I find myself short one. No tags or collar, just. Brown, curly fur on the ears. Spaniel. Loves you if you give her pieces of cinnamon rolls.

[ That's how she got her name, since he didn't want to call her "Rover" in honor of said roving. The explorer's streak she got from the model she is unconsciously based on is a equally source of fondness and frustration for a man that's desperately glad to have a problem so small, in retrospect. ]

From what I understand, I took a brief absence from Wonderland's benevolent embrace, so anyone else that may have taken care of the dogs, thank you, they've mostly found their way back home. Um.

[ The whereabouts of Hannibal Lecter weigh on his mind. It's easier to take a moment in debating asking when he's not face to face with anything but a camera lens, but after a beat he decides against it. He'd be contacted, unhealed emotional wounds forbidding. Will instead presses his mouth together in a tight, weak attempt at smiling. ]

Thanks.

[ And abruptly retreats. ]
want_take_have: (Default)
[personal profile] want_take_have
Action )

[after a bit of wandering and a whole lot of information that made next-to-no-sense to her, Faith has made her way to--where else--the kitchen. A box of cereal has been salvaged from a cabinet, and her coveralls have been rolled down to her waist, so when she manages to get the network recording, the image only catches a frowning, brown-haired woman in a white tank top, rather than the glowing neon-orange. Might as well only get the prison questions from people she actually has to see face-to-face.]

Yo. 'Sup? This thing actually working?

[another frown, and then a shrug. Either it is, or she's talking to herself. Can't be much crazier than anything else she's heard today]

Name's Faith, and where I'm supposed to be is way-the-hell-not-here. And not to say it was all sunshine and kittens, but I did kinda make a promise and all, so props or thanks or whatev to whoever can point to the yellow brick road.

[There's a pause and some rather loud crunching as she digs into the cereal box (ever the picture of manners, this one), followed by an afterthought]

By the by...where's a girl gotta go to get a new set of clothes? [still roomless, she was figuring she wouldn't be above shoplifting some new threads for however long she was stuck here]

[ooc - I'm cool with action threads happening pretty much anywhere, since she'll be wandering until she gets to the kitchen. Pre-food, she's likely to lean towards the aggressive side, but it's okay. She's reformed, now. It's mostly all talk.]

video

May. 19th, 2015 02:47 pm
fireheaded: (when i see that its risen)
[personal profile] fireheaded
[A new face appears on the screen. She seems to be fiddling with the device, pressing all sorts of buttons -- the video keeps blinking in and out but finally she stops and squints down at it.]

Oh! Oh, it's doing something. Hello? Can anyone hear me?

I think it's recording... [She positions herself properly in the center of the screen, looking very businesslike.] Hello. My name is Antimony Carver. You may already know me, or you may not. I don't know how closely tied this place is with the forest. It is tightly linked with the ether, I can tell that much easily, but this... phone or whatever it is too closely resembles human technology.

I'm excited to see more. [And oh does she look it. ...That was sarcasm. She looks completely stone-faced.] But I am... otherwise engaged. I made a promise -- not in so many words, but... I need to get back to the Court. Gunnerkrigg Court? It's beyond the forest, but I don't know the way, and I couldn't find anyone within the forest to help me. When I get back I can tell Kat I'm alright and then return here to investigate, but right now.... I can't just leave her without a word again.

Please, if you could help me. ... I'd owe you a debt.
ganking: (pic#8416270)
[personal profile] ganking
[ a little while ago dean brutally murdered one demon king of hell, crowley, and hurt john blake in the process. before that, he murdered both his best friend and brother, and attacked a whole bunch of people once near and dear to him. today, thankfully, finds him doing something entirely different as dean addresses the network with a lazy smile on his face.

he’s looking way too pleased with himself, beer in hand and leaning against a familiar looking car... ]


This place is kinda morbid, right? Murders and fights and scheming going on left and right— leaves your head spinning even on a good day. So I figure I should try to shake things up a little, and offer something… uh, nicer to the public.

The female public, anyway. Here I’ve attached a collection of potential good times, so if you see your name and wanna have fun — which means get laid, for the less savvy people — then lem’me know. No strings attached, no flowers and chocolates bullshit. I’m easy like that.

[ he is a gift from god. and he promises no one will get murdered. unless they try something stupid. ]


attachment: dean's handy-dandy do list )

[ he never did say he hadn’t put down a few notes along with the names. ]

Now if you’re worried ‘cause your pretty little name ain’t on the list, fret not. If you’re easy enough on the eyes and old enough to know what fun is, get in contact.

[ s m i l e! and dean cuts the feed. ]


( ooc: note that some threads in this post might include heavy violence and/or dub-con/non-con type elements! read at your own risk. )
causeforfaith: (Default)
[personal profile] causeforfaith
[ It's late when Jeep makes this post. His room is dark except for a single lamp on the desk and from the camera angle it's easy to see sheets of paper scattered. All of it is covered in scribblings, notes that Jeep has been taking, there is a stack of books nearby on old languages. Going by both the multiple empty coffee mugs and his tired voice he hasn't slept in a while. ]

...I'm wonderin' if anyone here's any good with old languages. Really old ones.

It's a long shot but I figure if I'm in a place with people from other world's then maybe they might know somethin' I don't.

[ He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. ]

Hell, at this point I'm willin' to entertain any ideas. If you're any good with this kind of shit let me know.
therapize: (tell me what i can do)
[personal profile] therapize
Introspection and Action. Content warning for murder aftermath. )

[She stands up, takes a few steps away from the body. Her eyes keep a constant watch on the hall around her, even as she turns on the phone to send out a message--audio only. She won't subject anyone else to this sight if she can avoid it.]

Um. I'm sorry, but--there's been a murder on the fifth floor. [There can be no other word for it. This violence, this cruelty can be no accident.] I found the victim. Sam. It's Sam Winchester.

[God, what is she even saying? Cami, of all people, should be able to put these words together better.]

Please don't come up here unless you absolutely have to. I'm near room--[A pause, as she looks for the nearest door] Room thirteen. I don't know who did it; there wasn't anyone here when I found him, but someone did. So please, be careful.

03 - video

Mar. 14th, 2015 12:35 pm
markedbyfate: (gun; pistol)
[personal profile] markedbyfate
[ Ever since the memory room, Alex had been planning on teaching Claire how to shoot, just in case she had to defend herself and he couldn't be there. But an idea occurs to him: how many other people are there in Wonderland who could use this knowledge? The closets mean an unlimited supply of guns and ammo, and it's better that people know how to use guns than try to use one blindly.

So he makes this announcement. ]



My name is Sergeant Alex Lannon, Archangel Corps. Some of you know me, some of you don't. Either way, I was thinking... Wonderland can be a pretty dangerous place sometimes, if you don't know how to defend yourself. So that's why I'm offering to teach people to shoot. [ He holds up his handgun to demonstrate. ] We'll go out in the forest, where we can't hurt anyone, and set up there. Private lessons, not group stuff.

If you're wondering about what makes me qualified, I've been using guns since I was about eight. Handguns, rifles, semiautomatics... I may not be the best shot around, but I know enough about what I'm doing to teach. [ He knows his way around a sword, too, but isn't as confident in his abilities there. Not when there are swordsmen like Michael around. ]

And if there's anyone else out there hearing this who wants to offer to teach, yeah, feel free to put yourselves out there.
assistanting: (With sparks that ring and bullets fly)
[personal profile] assistanting
[one moment, she'd been exploring the rooms of their creepy new house discussing how sad it was that they had to ditch it in favor moving to DC (would they find a better one? could anything possibly be this perfect?) when she'd walked into a closet and came out the other side. Only, the otherside of the closet was Wonderland. While the new room looks actually suited to April's taste the real world doesn't work like this.

She notices the phone in her pocket and notices the access to the network pretty quickly (hello, 2017 technology) so the network is soon greeted with a video post by none other than yours truly, April Ludgate-Dwyer. Who still isn't convinced that she isn't drunk.]


Hello, "Network," I am your new Overlord, April. I will be kind to my subjects who are bountiful in wisdom and candy and those who are not will have their heads cut off. I shall require a monthly fealty of virgins, who will be delivered to me in the basement of this not-so-creepy house or you will face my great and terrible wrath.

[April makes something that's a cross between jazz hands and a jellyfish motion into the camera.]

My first command is that you tell me everything about the previous gods you worshiped so that I may crush them, and also the weaknesses of this house and its vulnerabilities.

[distracted, she takes another look around the room and while not much is visible from the camera but what is looks like someone raided a halloween shop on the day after halloween for some sweet, sweet and terrible combed over deals.]

And, uh, tell me why the closet to Narina is only one way.
formerlydangerous: (Default)
[personal profile] formerlydangerous
[He's bloody, bruised, worn, confused, and completely misplaced. He'd stepped out of Angel's office and into the mansion. It'd taken a hot minute before his memories of Wonderland resurfaced. He set about hunting down his room, grabbing his mobile, and then decided to address his fellow captives. Things are different now. He's different now.

So, he opens the feed, looking decidedly less irate than his first broadcast months ago. Wonderland's network is greeted by the platinum blonde Brit. Blood that had run from his ear down the side of his face was dried and flaking. Various cuts mar his face, various patches and streaks of dried blood contrast with his pale skin. But does he seem to care? That would be a big, bloody NOPE. Or maybe he's forgotten it's there and can't exactly see himself in a mirror to be reminded.]


Gooooood morning, Viet--wait. Wrong movie. Don't know how long I've been gone but, Ol' Spike's back. So! Tell me lads, lasses, and not-so-gentle-demons, what did I miss? Anything special? See, for me, I've been through quite a bit since I went all disappear-y. Been months back home but it looks like it's only been a week or two here s'far as I can tell.

C'mon now, don't be shy! Not like you lot have anything better to do in this hell dimension where time's on holiday.



Private to Angel )
therapize: (sarcasm is my defense)
[personal profile] therapize
[Cami's given the announcement she's about to make quite a bit of thought: her idea isn't exactly a small undertaking. Back home she'd tried pushing aside all the supernatural mayhem to help normal people with normal problems, although that part of the world doesn't exactly let go very easily. Here it's a million times worse, but also somehow closer to being normal. Maybe it's just because of the scale, the fact that literally everyone knows how Wonderland works, that magic is real, that life is dangerous.

And if even centuries-old hybrids could benefit from therapy, who's to say others won't?]


Hi...Wonderland. [She gives the camera an awkward grin before glancing down.] I guess I'm still not entirely used to saying that. Most of you don't know me, but my name is Cami O'Connell. I've been here about a month now, although it feels a lot longer, given recent events. [Seriously, she's pretty sure someone said some of the events were mostly harmless, but she has yet to really see that.]

And that's kind of the point. This place is crazy, and I think that if we were all left to our own devices, we'd probably all go crazy in it. Everyone has to find a way to cope with it somehow, and I'd like to offer one, if people are interested. Something may already be set up for this, and I'm sorry if I'm stepping on anyone's toes. Back home I was studying to be a therapist; I'm pretty far into my grad degree, so while I'm not an actual doctor I do know the basics. Enough to know how to listen, and maybe give advice.

[Enough to know that not offering is just going to eat away at her. Cami's learned that she doesn't do well if she does nothing, and that the consequences of inaction can be far too great.]

If anyone's interested, we could set up a time and place to meet, or go over any questions. Or if there's already a practice in place, I'd like to talk about working together. Either way, the option is there. So, thanks for listening.

[And with that, the feed clicks off.]
delusive: (pic#8047167)
[personal profile] delusive
[The video feed turns on and Katherine smiles slightly. She looks concerned given the situation while giving off the impression she's trying to stay calm. If she ends up getting mistaken for Elena Gilbert, well that is obviously a coincidence, not intentional at all really! Or so she would claim if called out on it because for now she's just testing the waters trying to get some answers and make sure she is actually in the clear]

So this is Wonderland, huh? I was told that's where we are but that's as much as I got along with a mention of the fact we're stuck here too. I'm not sure how much of that I believe just yet so I guess if anyone listening can clarify that for me or give me more of an explanation I'd appreciate it.

I was also wondering if anyone else from Mystic Falls here? I'd hate to wish whatever this is on anyone but it'd be nice to see at least some familiar faces. [That is the last thing she wants but whatever it seems typical of people do ask that from what she's seen] I'm not entirely sure why we're kidnapped here or what we're expected to do but in the meantime here's a poll for the masses if we really are stuck here. Any recommendations for fun things to do around here? I could use a few suggestions.
goodnightlisteners: (almost always watching)
[personal profile] goodnightlisteners
[Cecil is pretty used to nightmares, even community-wide nightmares, but this one should probably be addressed.]

Twas brillig and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe. Welcome...to Wonderland.

Are we safe from Jabberwocks? No way. )
ofletters: (i have no hope in solitude)
[personal profile] ofletters
Okay, public service announcement, here: if you don't filter or lock your messages, we can all see them. And read and hear them. Which usually doesn't matter, but just... I mean, if it's quote-unquote sensitive information, you probably don't want it on the public network. And we don't, either. Usually. And even then... I mean, there're a handful of tech-savvy people in the mansion, so even if it's encrypted, it still could be, you know, decrypted. I'm just saying, it's almost always better to talk in person if you're making big plans or swapping secrets.

That said, does anyone know the network's origin? I mean, I never pegged the Queen of Hearts or the Duchess or whoever to be good with computers. It had to start somewhere, by someone who knew what they were doing. It's a pretty complicated system.

Just... don't tell me it was "magic." [ Sigh. ]
noitatnacni: (crying my tears)
[personal profile] noitatnacni
Remember, remember, the fifth of November. [She's heard that somewhere before. Not that she can name the source when she mumbles it then, but it runs through her head a lot. She has every reason to remember, although hers aren't the same as most. Other people are remembering down at the beach, and normally a party like Bonfire Night might be something Zatanna went to and relished. It sounds like fun, which isn't exactly something that happens a ton in Wonderland. But even if yesterday just hadn't happened, it's still November 5th. She'd know it even if she hadn't just checked her phone's date and time for the hundredth time that hour. The difference this time is that the phone decides to start recording when she sets it down at her side. It isn't easy to tell, but she's up on the roof, sitting at the edge and looking out into the distance.]

I don't know what I'm doing. Bet you never thought I'd say that, huh?

[These aren't words she means to share; the entire day she's spent as alone as she can manage, sparing a friendly smile for anyone she runs into, but not a genuine one. It hasn't been a year exactly, yet she can't argue with the date, or what her heart feels when she remembers what happened the last time she went through this day at home. So she talks to the person who isn't there, who she hadn't opened up to nearly so much as she should have when he had been. He'd always been so overprotective, right up to the point where he took her place as a prisoner.]

I mean, I'm trying. I've practiced a lot; it's not like there's anything else to do here anyway. But my magic still isn't strong enough. [Not to save a single soul, much less somehow escape Wonderland with her memories in tact. When she goes home, she has to be strong enough to stop Fate, to have the right spell and get past the magic that keeps his helmet in place. Zatanna leans forward, arms tightly wrapped at her waist.] I haven't been able to save anyone.

[So how on earth does she save him?

It seemed so much easier back home, as part of a Team. Yet they aren't in Wonderland either; no one from her world is, and the loneliness from that weighs more heavily on her now than it has since her arrival. They'd believed in her, even when she doubted her own ability. Zatanna draws an arm forward so she can look down at her hand, and for a moment she can almost hear Robin's encouragement. But he isn't there either, no more than Artemis or M'gann or anyone.

No more than Zatara. He hadn't always been a hero either, although she isn't old enough to remember when he wasn't. He never wanted her to live this life, even as he taught her magic and watched her grow. And in turn, she never understood why, just accounted it to him being her dad and smootheringly overprotective. She'd wished he'd lay off so she could join the Team, just before Zatara and every other adult vanished that day. Her breath catches, because even though they weren't they weren't her last words nor were they even spoken to him, she remembers, and regrets them so much.]


I'm sorry, Dad. [For every failure and faltering. For her own powerlessness at Wonderland and back home. She swallows hard, the tears she'd long expected starting to fall as she trembles for a reason far different than November's chill.]
tobeseeking: (pic#8421079)
[personal profile] tobeseeking
[ When he arrives, Dorian isn’t entirely disoriented. In fact, he is so intrigued by the wonderment of this place, that he spends several long minutes touring the corridors and hallways. The moment he last recalls - a blink, a turn, and he had been here - does not surface in all the excitement, fingertips lightly touching the smoothness of the walls and the decor of the tables. By the time he discovers the device in his pocket, the enthusiasm has cooled to curiosity and a calm demeanor that eventually reflects on the video feed that appears. A moving picture? How ingenious. ]

Hello. [ There’s a twitch of a smile, something easy and inviting. ] As things do not seem to have any particular order here, an introduction would be proper in this situation. [ But the very idea of it almost causes him to laugh. ] I am Dorian Gray.

[ His fingertips fill the view as he touches the screen with a somewhat speculative expression. Then, there is nothing but a full, gentle smile. ]

The questions that this place originally instill are not as intriguing as some of the others that immediately come to mind. So, I extend this invitation to you and anyone willing to discuss these... finer details with me. [ A tilt of his head and the thank you is unspoken. ] I look forward to it.

[ Before it ends, the video pans to take in his location: the main entrance hall. If anyone happens to approach him there, he may be somewhat distracted by details of the architecture, hands clasped loosely behind his back. ]
visiongirl: (O-oh okay)
[personal profile] visiongirl
[Filtered Away from Angelus]

[The feed opens up in a very matter of fact sort of voice.]

So, a little less than a weke in Wonderland and I already got to live in some sort of Twilight Zone town for a bit. That was a thing. But not the thing I'm here to talk about. Why yes, I'm aware I've been here before and no I don't remember it. But for those who don't know me I'm Cordelia Chase and I have a message/warning for the people here.

So there's this guy from my world, Angel. He's the big dumb hero type with the world's largest forehead and he tends to use a little too much hair gel. I don't know how long he's been here in Wonderland but the guy who you all think is Angel? Yeah, that's Angelus, and he is a not a good guy. Sociopathic bloodsucker is more like it.

See, vampires in my world don't have souls, typically. But Angelus pissed off the wrong set of gypsies and he got cursed with one hence Angel -- but when he experiences a moment of true happiness the curse breaks and he goes back to his much more evil form. That must of been what happened even if I can't figure out what or who could given him perfect bliss.

The point is if you see Angel? You need to run, he will torture you, he will kill you, and he's extremely dangerous. Until we get a soul back in him he's a threat to everyone.

Speaking of that -- are there any witches I can talk to? If only Willow were here -- she actually knows the spell but we have to do with what we have sometimes.

[Video]

Oct. 29th, 2014 03:05 pm
sorta_cinderella: (Default)
[personal profile] sorta_cinderella
 [So, Storybrooke. That was a thing. Well, at least everything's back to normal, we all have our memories, Saki Hanajima is her usual blank-faced monotone self-]

TOHRUUU!

[... or not. See, before the event, Saki was vampire food. Repeatedly. And now that she remembers, she's hysterically scrambling to find a safe place to hide, and to find her beloved best friend. As a result, the girl who typically never shows emotions is now a screaming, crying mess. She's running down the hallways, occasionally tripping over herself due to how fast she's going. She clutches the device in both hands, sobbing and yelling into it.]

Oh God, oh God, oh God... Don't go near Angel! Stay away from him! He... he... he killed me! He's going to do it again! I don't want to die again! Tohru! Tohruuu!

[And she trips again, this time falling on the floor, the device bouncing off and away. She groans, pulling at her hair.]

Nnngh... W-what's the point of these damn powers.... if I can't... Oh, God, I'm sorry, Tohru! I should have stopped him!  I should have... Oooh, Tohru... I promised, and I still didn't...

[Video]

Oct. 29th, 2014 12:51 am
formerlydangerous: (Stoned?)
[personal profile] formerlydangerous
[The network is greeted with a set of high cheekbones covered in deathly pale skin. Well, there are more than cheekbones to the face, but they're probably his most prominent feature. He's scowling somewhat and if one looked closely, he seemed to be... smoking? Not in the traditional sense. He does that, too, but that's not what's happening right now. More like some kind of fire had been put out under his black trench coat. Said black trench coat was pulled up over his head as if it were raining and that was his only source of cover. However, it's quite obviously not raining. But for now, he was holed up in the shade of the orchard.]

If this is someone's idea of a sodding joke, let me be the first to tell you; no one's laughing! And anyone I catch laughing will have their throat torn out! Bugger the chip! The head ache will be well worth it!

[The feed cuts out and he's about to chuck the device across the field, but... he stops. Re-engages the video feed with a slightly calmer demeanour, almost trying to pretend he didn't just have a little temper tantrum.]

Right! Well. On that chipper note, where the bloody hell am I? Because Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas any more.
vampdetective: (02)
[personal profile] vampdetective
Private Audio to Cordelia Chase )

Private Text to Tohru Honda )


[Action:]

[The gnawing hunger has been mounting since the early morning hours. Usually, it's easy enough to sate -- after decades upon decades of almost nothing but animal blood, he still misses the genuine article, but aside from taste, there isn't much difference. As long as it's something red, it's enough to stop his hunger in its tracks.

Except, apparently, today.

It's puzzling at first. The first two glasses of pig's blood go down easy, but he feels just as empty as he did before. A third and fourth don't make any difference, either. Whereas he's normally self-conscious about risking letting other people see him drink, the painful and unsatisfied hunger is enough to push him not to care. For the first half of the first day, he'll he be in the kitchen, drinking glass after glass of pig's blood until he finds himself forced to move onto larger containers, lidded plastic buckets like the ones he gets from the butcher's shop back home. Before long, he stops caring about his appearance, too -- any blood that manages to get on his face or clothes is left where it is instead of being wiped away -- anything to keep the blood coming faster.

He continues on like this until he realizes that it's not pig's blood he's hungry for. It's the scent of the humans in the mansion that's most telling. Most days, he can swallow it down and resist, push through the temptation and do things the way he always does.

Today, they just smell... tastier.

During the daylight hours, he's limited to the mansion, but will be making every effort to stay away from highly populated areas, mostly keeping to the basement or trying to hide himself away in one of the tearooms. At night, he'll move himself outdoors, trying to get as far from the mansion as possible, moving towards the edge of the forest or trying to intentionally get himself lost in the hedge maze.]
wolfwild: (ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ)
[personal profile] wolfwild
...Benjen? [ when lyanna stark pushes herself into a sitting position a few twists and turns away from the maze's centre, her instinct is to call for one of her brothers: the youngest, first, and with a lilt of concern. with a groan, she brushes detritus off her palms and straightens her skirts (simple; in the northern style). and she tries to figure out why she might have been preparing her palfrey to ride in one moment, and sitting in dirt the next.

not that she minded the dirt -- not really. but she did mind the conspicuous absence of her kin. panic mounts: ]
Brandon? Ned?

[ she scrambles to her feet and finds the strange small brick only a few feet away. lyanna picks it up and can now be seen peering suspiciously at its every angle. ] You're a funny thing. [ she mutters, tapping it gently and fingering (but not pressing) the buttons. but then she holds it loosely in her fist and raises her voice. ] By all the named gods and the unnamed gods -- Brandon Stark! If this is some trick or a mummer's game, I will have your hide. And without it, you can hardly hope to woo any pretty --

[ she stops abruptly because the brick chirrups like some odd precise bird. surprise catches the breath in her throat and she's forced to ask -- staring straight at the device: ] ...Are you alive, little brick?

[ grab her attention on the funny little brick-bird or else find her wandering the maze and the gardens. ]

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