monosaccharide: canon (goliad109)
[personal profile] monosaccharide
Greetings denizens of Wonderland!

[Bubblegum looks excited today. She has a lab coat on over her pink dress, her hair piled into a bun and out of the way.]

I have made some rather alarming discoveries, and I thought I would share them with you.

[She fiddles with a remote and the picture is replaced with an image, her face shrinking to a smaller box in the corner.]

For those of you from less scientifically advanced worlds, this is a PET scan. It shows activity in the brain. As you can see, I've marked off several areas of note. This subject made an excellent example, as they have experienced unrelated amnesia as well as Wonderland memory loss. You see in "Area A," there's a darker smudge? That is what I'd expect memory loss to look like. This subject's memories have been manipulated rather extensively, so it isn't surprising that the data would be a little... fuzzy.

But the areas marked "B" and "C".... when I first noticed those I thought there might be something wrong with my equipment, but after discussion with the subject and testing my equipment further, I am forced to conclude that my reading is correct.

My subject has lost two memories from the so-called "Wonderland Events" and traded one away to the vendors. She has three dots where there is simply... no data, two smaller, one larger. This should not be possible. It certainly is alarming. Nothing should be able to remove data so thoroughly. Nothing. But if my hypothesis is correct, Wonderland is doing just that.

[She touches her control again, sending the brain scan away, her own image now taking up the entire screen. She smiles sunnily.]

Anyway, I'm happy to share my full report with anyone interested. I'd also welcome anyone willing to volunteer as a subject. The more data we have, the more substantial a theory I can build.

Thank you for your time. I will take any and all questions you may have now.
nascensibility: but will break ur neck (cute as heck)
[personal profile] nascensibility
[After months of attempted planning (most of which was frequently cast to the wayside in favour of dealing with whatever fresh Hell decided to make itself known to them all) Evelyn has come to the conclusion that there will never be a "Good Time," and has therefore decided that with that being the case, it is simply easier to set what she likes, when she likes.

This is all a very runabout way of saying that Evelyn has politely asked the Mansion - which, as we all now know, is practically sentient - to deliver the following invitation to everyone's door:
]



[Intangible* attachments have also been forwarded to each resident, supplemented by the following transmission:]

I'm holding a fête this Friday evening - there isn't a particular time for required attendance, it should be ongoing for several hours after dinner - and I should like as many parties as available to come. It is themed, as there are a number of us here from time periods before 1950, so appropriate attire is encouraged, but not mandated.

[This is in part due to a withering homesickness that Wonderland itself has been unable to satisfy.]

Kindly respond if you do plan to join, and I hope to see you all on Friday.




[*Evelyn is having a difficult time remembering to call them "digital."]
backpacking: (all just lie and complain)
[personal profile] backpacking
[ At first, there are a lot of nondescript sounds and images, as if she turned on the feed and promptly forgot about it. The voice of a preteen girl lets loose a string of muttered curses. Objects rustle, clatter, shuffle. Heavy footfall. Eventually, Ellie shows her face, clearly trying to be more informative thank panicked, but the fear makes it into her eyes and voice. ]

Hey, remember when I thought it'd be helpful to say what kind of crap might follow us here? ... Yeah. Totally right about that. [ Distracted, the camera shifts to show a sideways view of the hallway without much of interest to see there. Ellie walks for a while, still producing swears on every other exhale, though she quickly returns to the video. ]

If you saw Max's broadcast, then you know... something's up. And the zombies? Aren't zombies. They're Infected, they're... basically the same, except they're not undead, or whatever. Those things are still alive. And they... fucking... followed me here.

[ In a manner of speaking. For anyone who's ever wondered about the hopeless world that Ellie was pulled out of, this will be a lovely first-hand opportunity to learn. ]

Right. Okay. So, what you need to know. [ Hopefully people aren't asleep. This occurs to her and she stops short, trying to figure out if she has time to go door to door and pound on them until their residents can flee. More swearing. ] ... If they bite you, or scratch you, you're screwed. They might be in the basement now, so we've got some time. I went down there, and they look like Runners, so they can see and hear you, and they're fucking fast.

[ Hence the name. Cue sights and sounds of Ellie stuffing a bunch of supplies into her backpack. ]

Oh, yeah. So, that's not all. What they're sick with? It's a fungus, and its spores are... down there, but if those guys come up here, then the spores'll be everywhere. If you breathe them in, you're done. Just-- get outside, grab supplies, weapons, and definitely a gas mask, and get out of here. It's just gonna get worse.

[ Shit. There's so much more she wants to say, but her mind is both blank and racing wildly, and all she can really hold onto is that she has to find people and keep them safe. Ellie swallows, face set, clearly pained by what she knows is about to happen. ]

Endure and survive.
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

Jul. 13th, 2015 10:34 am
altarwolf: (send me a bow diana)
[personal profile] altarwolf
[Hello Wonderland. You may have noticed a black cat wandering the grounds and within the mansion. Maybe staring at you, but running off if you turned your attention toward it. Whether or not you saw this cat, it is now human, and it is not pleased with what it's found.

The feed comes on to a young dark haired woman with piercing eyes. It switches off, switches to text, switches back to video and she stands back, apparently unsatisfied with what she has discovered of the device.
]

I was under the impression this infernal contraption has the ability to send messages, but I do not see how. What magic it employs is beyond me, like much of the magic of this place. [Which is frustrating, to not know something she's meant to, something she's supposedly an expert in.

She takes a closer, disapproving look at the device. It's certainly no Eluvian.
] 'Tis meant to speak to me now, yes? Rather, the voices of those it reaches. Or am I speaking plainly to a little box and looking the fool for it? ... [She'd growl if she were the sort to growl. But she's clearly exasperated. When she speaks again, her tone makes it clear she is on her last bit of patience.]

Tell me now, residents of this place, of where I am and, also, what sort of place leaves rooms strewn about its grounds, books among the leaves as they are. I am no architect, but it seems a poor choice of design.

...Well? Speak now!

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