villainously: ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪʀʀᴏʀ (112)
[personal profile] villainously
( the video opens with a pair of bright blue eyes, far more fur than any one creature could need, and a practically thunderous purr. it's not surprising, seeing as Hook has tried about 5 times to set the thing up to record and the damn cat keeps knocking it over. his company is painfully exposed as he scoops up the purring beast and puts it on the floor.

no he's not going to mention or talk about the cat. that's not important, all right? thanks to that bloke with cat fantasies practically all of Wonderland has a cat. that's not what he's trying to talk about.

the pirate looks tired, but anyone that knows him knows that's a 24-7 thing for him. he's been tired since he arrived, months ago. that doesn't seem to be stalling anytime soon. not sleeping doesn't help, but his busywork does, at least a little. busywork for a pirate means making maps, which means... )


Is there a proper map of this place? I haven't spotted one yet. If there's not, I've been considering starting on a draft. It won't do us any good once the place is tits up on these events, but it's not a horrible thing to have on hand.

( he rubs at his forehead, as Dave jumps back up onto his desk and paws at the many pens scattered there. )

I'd ask for a star chart while I was at it, but speaking of things going tits up, the stars here are absolutely mad. I don't remember them being like this when I arrived, does anyone know what happened to them?

( the stars running wild bothers him more than he cares to admit. stars shouldn't move nightly... it's utterly ridiculous. Dave seems to have decided that the first eight times he was put on the floor for messing with the camera were just a cute joke, and tries to nuzzle it with more of those dementedly loud purrs. the pirate sighs and plucks it back off the table to the floor. )

If anyone has experience with cartography, I suppose I'd take the help. Making a map from scratch is difficult.

video

Apr. 5th, 2016 03:04 pm
ngah: (subtle as the sun)
[personal profile] ngah
[Wow. Undyne feels like crap. Funny how dying will do that to you. Her limbs ache almost distantly, like they're remembering pain that's already gone. She finds her way to her room and moodily locks the door and sits on the bed, shoes kicked off to the side.

She just thinks, for a while. About how she should be gone. About how she didn't just go to dust when that knife plunged into her. About her friends... Did they die after she did? She was sure it would happen at the time.

Only one way to find out. She pulls out her phone from her pocket and turns on the video feed. She figures that'll be the easiest way to reach everyone at once.
]

So.

Was anyone going to tell me we don't stay dead here or???

[Well, whatever. Too late now. Now she knows.]

Anyway. What'd I miss?

[Hopefully not too much death and destruction.]
circlejerked: (↯ we close and warm)
[personal profile] circlejerked
Um. All right, no one panic, but I may have underestimated these magic closets of ours and accidentally... done something.

[Anders' voice, sounding contrite. In the background, an unremitting stream of noise threatens to drown him out--it's meowing, rising and falling at different pitches like a tone-deaf a cappella group trying to harmonize and failing miserably.

The camera settles unsteadily on the hem of his robes before he sets it down and steps back. The source of the caterwauling then becomes apparent: in his arms are four young cats of various shapes and color, two tucked under each arm.

By the sounds of it, more are audible off-screen. Many, many more.]


I wasn't thinking... Well, I was, I was thinking how much more homey this place would be with a cute cat or two, and then--and then they were just there, and everywhere, and now there are a few more than two. If you have cat allergies, stay off the fourth floor.

[As if on cue, a kitten on stubby legs capers across the floor behind him. Anders, noticing movement on the screen, squints closely for a second, then looks for the real thing over his shoulder.]

One's making a run for it. Alistair! Alistair, catch it, my hands are full.

[From somewhere off among the caterwauling comes a response, the owner appearing shortly after--]

I see it!

[Alistair runs past in the background, two cats under one arm and what is presumably another squirming about down his shirt. He comes back into view a moment later, the escapee cradled in his free hand. Shoving the kitten in Anders' face--where it proceeds to bat at his nose--he frowns at the other man.]

This is getting ridiculous. We can't keep track of all of them. Is anyone coming to-- Ow!

[The yelp comes as the squirming under his shirt grows more energetic and with a slightly panicked look Alistair disappears from view again, kittens in tow. The only hint as to his fate comes as an increase in the mewling and the sound of fabric ripping mercifully out of sight.]

I'm getting to that part!

[Anders stares after him, eyebrows drawn up in alarm, before dragging his eyes back to the camera.]

Uhhh, it's okay, everything's fine, we have things completely under control, but as you can tell, we're in possession of some cats who could use a loving home! Soft, furry cats! Adorable, see? They're domesticated, easy to care for, and make excellent house pets. That one doesn't appear to be a fan of Alistair's shirt, but some are more fashion conscious than others.

I don't know if I can take care of them all. If you'd like to take one, we'll be giving them away free of charge in the ballroom. First floor, you can't miss it!
[Anders then points a finger sternly, though the effect is mitigated by the wide-eyed kittens holding onto his arm.] But no funny business. If you consider cats a delicacy, I'm warning you now, we're both heavily armed. People wanting to make mittens out of their fur need not apply.

(OOC: Come find the log over here!)
courtintrigue: (I could have had them both)
[personal profile] courtintrigue
[action]

[From the Korcari Wilds to the gilded corridors of Orlesian palaces to the mysterious hallways of this very mansion, observation has been key. There are few betters ways for Morrigan to learn, and learn she must.

As a black cat with watchful golden eyes, she spends an entire afternoon studying anyone who uses the network in the mansion's more public areas, particularly the gardens, the dining room, and the library. Those who seem to be moving from one place to another with a very specific destination in mind also earn her attention. The cat shows no fear, moving in close when the need arises, but attempts to touch her are met with evasive maneuvers.]



[voice]

[Later, in the evening, she resorts to privately using the network herself, her observation paying off to some small degree. Without introduction or pointless small talk, she launches directly into what currently weighs on her mind.]

I am led to believe that leaving this place by choice is unlikely. I would speak to anyone who has attempted it. Or perhaps those who know someone who has disappeared. Is there a pattern that has been pieced together?


(ooc: I'll be pretty steady with tags this afternoon/tonight but then I'll be unusually slow for about a week. If that's okay with you, tag away!)

Video

Mar. 30th, 2016 05:50 pm
a_chipped_cup: ([Belle] Comfortable (Hook))
[personal profile] a_chipped_cup
[It's been several months with Gold gone. He hasn't returned and there doesn't seem to be any signs that he will return. These facts do nothing but shake Belle's hope and optimism.

There was only one way to bury the pain.]

I don't suppose anyone wants to get a drink with me?
cutenug: (► confession.)
[personal profile] cutenug
What a strange place this is. There's so much magic here, and like none I've ever seen before. And this network! It's a wonderful little invention. Though not as wonderful as these closets. They gave me the most delightful pair of shoes when I asked. A bit unfashionable, but nothing that can't be changed.

It's a shame there doesn't seem to be an exit. It makes this quite the gilded cage, does it not? And one does wonder how all the magic is powered. Even with blood magic and lyrium both, this is quite the feat.


[ which, in her experience, means it's probably something terrible that will kill everyone or worse. which is what has her frowning at her device even as she makes a somewhat cheerful-sounding post. bless written missives and their ability to appear blase when leliana is too annoyed to mask her feelings entirely. ]

At the very least, I suspect this will make for an interesting story someday, no?

— L

( video )

Mar. 21st, 2016 11:47 am
cabalistically: (11)
[personal profile] cabalistically
[ The video starts with an elf centered in the frame. He’s bald and dressed in armor that’s mostly ornate metal, burnished golden scales, and a large pelt of some furry animal. There’s no fear in his eyes or confusion. If he’s affected by his arrival, he certainly doesn’t act like it. His expression is calm and confident. His voice, when he speaks, is measured and soft. ]

Wonderland, I've heard it called. [ There's the slightest uptick at the corner of his mouth, as though he's gently amused by the name. ] Yet I question the truth of that claim.

[ His eyebrow arches in what appears to be curiosity, the movement made more obvious by his lack of hair. ]

To whom is this place meant to wondrous? And why? Is it the prevalence of magic?

[ There’s a dryness lingering in his voice as he asks that last question, as though he’s wholly unimpressed by what he’s found. His neutral expression doesn’t change, but the dryness remains. Solas is not impressed, though admittedly, he might be anywhere, witnessing wonders untold and still find them lacking against the glory of his precious Arlathan. ]

I fear I’ve seen marvels far more astonishing than this communication device. [ His voice shifts, becoming faintly criticizing. As though the place has disappointed him. ] What of the rest of you? How do you find your accommodations?
iambaymax: (i am not fast)
[personal profile] iambaymax
[CLICK. For a moment, there is nothing but the sound of vinyl rubbing against vinyl. Then, very slowly, a large, white, marshmallow-like form moves in front of the camera.]

Hello. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion. I am programmed to assess your healthcare needs. How may I be of assistance?

[Pause. Turns head.]

My sensor is detecting high levels of stress and anxiety.

[Shuffles off-screen in tiny, squeaky steps. Pause. Thud.]

Oh, no.

[Shuffles back on-screen.]

My non-threatening, huggable design prevents me from opening the door. I am unable to provide medical assistance in my current location. When will the door open?

[Shuffles offscreen again. Pause. Thud.]

Oh, no.

video;

Mar. 8th, 2016 09:01 pm
1908: (pic#9863538)
[personal profile] 1908
[ Adaline wakes up slowly with the scent of vanilla, almond and parchment teasing at her senses. Her limbs feel heavy as lead, as if a hundred years of exhaustion has settled into her bones overnight. Unable to move properly right away, she stays there as she lets her the grogginess fade and her consciousness slowly come back into focus. Logic dictates she's fallen asleep at work again, lost in the 70,000 cubic feet of original records, books and news reels that the National Archives boasts. It wouldn't be the first time.

She yawns, jaw crackingly so as she pushes herself to sit up, her name badge still hanging loosely around her neck (still at work, then), proudly proclaiming her name as Jennifer Larson. It clicks gently against her belt, and Adaline looks down, taking it between her fingers and tapping the plastic with a soft snort before stretching, wincing as her bones crack down the length of her spine.

Just because you're ageless doesn't mean you don't ache like a 107 year old, she thinks off-handedly. Everything aches right now, like she's been in this position all night as opposed to a few hours. Normally, one of her coworkers will gently shake her awake and tease her for her inability to keep track of time. Poor Reese, she thinks as she finally stands and rubs her eyes, humming quietly under her breath as bones pop back into place after sleeping so long in a chair. He must be starving.

It's only once she's aware of her surroundings, once she clears the sleep from her eyes and takes a good look around that she realizes this is decidedly not the Archives. Her brow pinches between her eyes as panic flutters, but Adaline stays calm, composed. She's in a library, that much is clear, and danger does not seem to be imminent, but the threat is always there, as it seems to be no matter where Adaline Bowman goes.

A strange weight in her pocket merits a check, and it's not her cell, but a strange little device that looks as if it could be some sort of device. Which, of course, warrants further investigation and examination. ]


Hello..?

[ She's quiet, voice tentative. She's comfortable at least, surrounded by books, one leg delicately crossed over the other as she speaks into the device, not quite knowing what else to do.

It has a record function - broadcast, whatever you have it. So, that's what she's using. ]


Is anyone there?

[ Oh God she feels literally crazy, talking into a palm pilot or whatever the hell this thing is. So crazy, she speaks it aloud. ]

I'm going mad.

( video )

Mar. 8th, 2016 06:31 pm
shitloaf: (003)
[personal profile] shitloaf
[ The feed eventually shutters to life and it's pointing at the ceiling. It's a mostly nondescript ceiling, please enjoy it for being pleasantly neutral. Because it's going to be ruined in less than ten seconds.

Carver's face pops into the view and he stares at the device like it's some unholy abomination that just tinkled on his favorite shirt. It's clear he's in a terrible sort of mood—but when is he not?—by the harsh line of his brows and the curl of his mouth. While he doesn't have his full plate armor on, he still wears the blue and silver of the Grey Wardens. ]


So, apparently this sodding thing is supposed to let me talk to other people. [ Here he is. Doing just that. ] I'm—

[ He stops, sighs through his nose then rubs the side of his head. Does he introduce himself? Maybe. Ugh. ]

My name is Carver Hawke and I have a request and don't really know where to start. I'm looking for books. [ The harsh lines of his expression soften to the slightest degree for a brief moment. ] Easy ones. Ones that kids can read. Don't know what is considered that here, so.

[ He lifts a shoulder in a shrug as if that will explain the rest of the request so he doesn't need to. Basically, he needs pointing in the right direction with titles and maybe even large print.

Off-screen there is a small scuffling noise and it's followed soon by a little yappy sort of bark. There's a fun, bright usage of several even more fun curses before Carver disappears for a second. The video shakes as he picks up the device to hold at arms length. In his other hand is this abomination of a dog. It wriggles in his hand and that only seems to irritate him further. ]


And what in the Maker's name is this bloody thing? It's like some horrible Orlesian dog some sod would wear on their hat. What good are these wardrobes if this is what I get instead of a mabari?

[ The puppy happily licks Carver's nose and he grunts in disgust before putting it down and returning to the device. It seems he wants to say something more, but he isn't sure how. Clearly annoyed—and mostly with himself—he frowns all over again then just shuts the feed off. ]

Video

Mar. 7th, 2016 06:58 pm
scowls: (080)
[personal profile] scowls
[ For a few moments, all that’s visible in the slightly shaky view is an exciting expanse of bland-colored carpet. A light scratching sound is audible in time with the tilting of the image, as though the material that covers the device is moving against something unyielding and metallic. To someone who’s seen this sort of thing before, it’s indicative of someone examining the device.

A moment later, the image blurs and the boring carpet is replaced by large green eyes, shaggy white hair, thick black eyebrows, a scowling mouth, and a chin marred by white lines. ]


Hn. [ It’s a derisive snort, though the word that follows is even more so, heavily laden with disgust. ] Magic.

[ The image spins again, resolving a few dizzying seconds later to a crooked view of a sparsely furnished room. It’s the sort of room that looks to have never yet been lived in, the furniture of the most generic sort. Prowling near the far wall is the owner of that too-close face.

He’s wearing spiky armor, sharply pointed gauntlets, and a conspicuous lack of shoes. Pointed ears poke out of his hair and when he turns to unlimber a large greatsword from his back, more of the white lines are visible on his skin where it shows through gapes in his armor. As is probably apparent, he has no idea that he’s being recorded and continues to examine the room with wary unease.

The video will continue for quite some time, documenting a positively riveting video of an over-armored elf doing nothing but poking around a room, until he’s alerted to the fact that the device is both active and broadcasting his business to others.

Someone, quite clearly, does not know how to use the communication device properly. ]

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