deadshapes: (crimes)
[personal profile] deadshapes
[ Clementine and Mae appear on the screen. It’s a little girl and a cat girl. They’re standing in a room on the first floor. Clem has a crowbar in her hand, slung over her shoulder. Mae has her trusty baseball bat and a very cat-that-got-the-canary grin on her face.]

Hey, so… Mae told me about how she breaks shit sometimes and how it’s… cathartic? [ that’s the word she used, right? ] And I tried it with a light bulb. It felt pretty damn awesome so we thought it might be cool to have an official place where people could break stuff whenever they needed to deal with bullshit.

[Mae immediately picks up the thread, grinning wide.]

So we are super effing pleased to introduce…The Destruction Room.

[She pans the camera over to the sign on the door. It’s generic and straight to the point. Then she pans the camera around to take in the room. There’s rows of shelves filled with china plates, vases, glass figurines and other fragile-looking items. Along the walls are dozens of light fixtures and free-standing lamps, as well as just a metric ton of lightbulbs, both fluorescent and incandescent. All of it is very precariously displayed and it looks like it wouldn’t take much to just knock some of these shelves right over.]

Isn’t it amazing? We stocked it with everything that could possibly go smash.

[Clementine gestures then to have Mae pan the camera toward the wall on the side which has a giant weapon rack with every blunt weapon imaginable from bats to maces to hammers and more. ]

Over on this wall, we’ve got every blunt weapon you can think of so you can really make the breakables crack into a hundred awesome pieces. Also, it’s on the first floor, room 4 so if you hit yourself in the foot or get glass stuck in your arm or something, the clinic’s right next door.

Yeah, we pretty much thought of everything. Because we’re awesome.

[Mae holds out her hand to Clementine for a high-five. Clementine leans over, high fiving her back, with a smile. Totally awesome. ]

Anyway, yeah, come on down and get your smash on. Work out some of that pre-event anxiety or whatever.
choosetruth: (BTK104)
[personal profile] choosetruth
As many of you have no doubt noticed by now, we are in the midst of what, for lack of a better word, I'll call an event. Not a normal event, though. Wonderland hasn't raked through anyone's memories and put bits of our lives on display. This is the doing of individual Reals and Mirrors, and the fallout of their actions, proving once again, our greatest enemies will always be ourselves.

Leopold Fitz and Cisco Ramon, two scientists that started out with the best of intentions, as so many scientists do, have been trying to create a way out of Wonderland, though they refrained from sharing this information with the public before running their experiment last week. "I don't think anyone's been that in the dark that some of us have been working on trying to find a way home. There's no sense in getting people's hopes up over something that is almost certainly destined to fail the first few, probably hundred times," said Ramon, when questioned.


Lots more words and a picture under the cut. George uses so many words, guys. So many. )

[ooc: feel free to threadjack around and discuss with each other in the comments! Turn this into the nightmare comment section all articles deserve.]

[Voice]

May. 10th, 2017 11:14 pm
hypoxic: } Pretentious lyrics: °C-ute - "Grieving Heaven" (Default)
[personal profile] hypoxic
[The Astrophysics lab is a bit of a mess at the moment, covered in alarming mechanisms that aren't fully installed yet. To keep people from jumping to conclusions, Fitz is opting for an audio-only message today.]

Apologies for the interruption. I just wanted to give ample notice that the lab will be performing some testing on this coming Friday. Please be advised that the fourth floor might be excessively noisy during the proceedings. We won't be working with anything particularly dangerous, so please don't be alarmed by anything you hear.

We're quite sorry for any inconveniences this might cause. It might be a good day to stay outside to avoid the noise pollution.

Thank you for your time.
thevulnerability: can use please credit (✥ i feel like i'm losing the fight)
[personal profile] thevulnerability
What the-

[ When Chloe appears on the network, she's cast largely in shadow and looks a little wet. Every few seconds she shivers, pretending like she isn't scared, but not bothering to hide that she's pissed. The signature stalactites of the underground caves can be made out above her, although at the moment, she is more interested in the device in her hand and whoever she may be speaking to. ]

Finally. This is Detective Chloe Decker of the LAPD. I just... found myself in this horror cave and I don't know how to get out. I don't know if this device is meant to communicate with whoever brought me here, but if it is, it would really be in your best interest to let me go.

[ As if this week couldn't have gotten any worse. Chloe feels like she just can't cut a break anymore, not that she ever really could before. ]

If anyone else sees this message... I need some help.
therapize: (this isn't your fault)
[personal profile] therapize
[It’s perhaps one of the most peaceful events Cami’s ever experienced. It had felt more like a field trip than anything sinister or cruel, a journey into outer space untainted by some twist to their personalities or memories. In the two years she’s spent in Wonderland, Cami can’t name another time when the machinations of this place have been so kind.

Which is why, she thinks, she should expect the announcements that filter through the network so soon thereafter. Announcements of departure, of loss so like death, and two of those names strike Cami so closely that it feels like someone’s torn a wound into her chest.

She doesn’t put up anything right away—but it also doesn’t take so long as one might expect from someone who is grieving. Cami has always processed her pain by throwing herself into something, finding some action to take.

This time, there’s a rather large one.

She’s not in her own office when the feed opens, or even the privacy of her room. Instead she’s sitting at the bar—not behind it. Not until she’s finished the glass of bourbon she’s poured herself at the very least.

It’s neither the first, nor the last she’ll have that day.]


Starting today, the therapy office will be closed for the next week. [She pauses, her eyes lowering for a moment as she takes a breath.] Maybe longer. It depends on how long the other part of this takes. If anyone has an emergency, you can call me, but I won’t be keeping regular hours. Sorry.

[She looks back towards the camera then. Cami thinks she should feel some guilt about it, hence the apology—but she doesn’t.

They can live without her for a week.]


That other part I mentioned is this: the fifth floor bar. [She waves a hand briefly towards the space around her, but the truth is, most everyone likely knows about it already.] I’m the last regular worker here, which in theory makes me the de facto owner. The thing is, I already have one full time job. I can’t run this place alone.

[Cami can recognize that much of a limit at least. There’s a break while she takes a drink; the feed is pretty quiet, all things considered.]

I’m not giving it up. [Let’s establish that first.] But I need help. Bartenders especially, although if you want to volunteer and you don’t have any experience, I can teach you. I’m hoping to find some people who do, however, before Friday.

We’re going to be hosting—well. The closest thing to it would be an Irish wake. [She’s trying to be kind. It is a wake for Jo, because she’s dead in her world. Dead and gone, because just being stripped of her memories of Simon somehow isn’t bad enough.] Irish specifically, because it’s not for grieving. It’s for celebrating the people who were here and who aren’t now. See, if you knew Jo and Simon especially, you know they wouldn’t want a bunch of sad mourners crying over them. They'd want another way to be remembered, so that’s what’s going to happen. ABBA and all.

[Grieving can come before or after--and after. Cami leans forward towards the camera, a grin on her lips that doesn’t quite manage to be happy.]

We’re going to celebrate the chance to have had them in our lives, for however long that lasted. Because if anyone managed to find a way to live in this place, and to make it truly good? It was them.

[It should still be them.

Cami takes in a breath; someone listening closely enough might hear how shaky it is. What’s easier to see is the brief brush of her fingers under her eyes, wiping away the tears that threaten to form and fall. She knows she needs to finish this soon, and she tries to smile again. Maybe she even manages to be a bit friendlier this time.]


Friday night. Wear your neon. And if you’re interested in helping out, either just for the night or long-term, let me know.

[And with that, she cuts off the feed.]
normandysbest: (« [Proud] you did good kid)
[personal profile] normandysbest
[The camera opens on Shepard standing against a display wall, with a bunch of chatter going on behind her. There's some text displayed, but it's too big to be seen through the limited scope of the video. She smiles, and mock salutes with two fingers.]

Gotta say, out of all the things Wonderland could've drawn from for me, this is probably the best end of the deal. So hey everybody, welcome to the Citadel. Yes, you're in space. No, you don't need a suit unless you wanna go outside, and I wouldn't recommend it.

[She swaps the video feed for a few moments to outside her surroundings, showing a crowded view of the Silversun Strip, and then back to her face.]

The Citadel's the hub of galactic government in my universe. Lots to do, lots to see. You've probably all got omni-tools, but they're pretty basic to learn. In general, try to stay away from any places that look seedy, and if it's illegal where you come from, it's probably illegal here. Otherwise, go wild. If you need directions, the holographic terminals are VI information guides. Ask 'em whatever. Or, y'know, you've got the extranet in the palm of your hands, so you can just search it yourself.

[She looks like she's gonna stop, and then grins a little bit wider.]

Oh, and one more thing...

[She steps away from the wall to show she's standing in front of a display sign. A very particular display sign.]

I re-maxed my high score at the Armax combat arena. I'll buy anyone who can beat me without cheating a free meal. Good luck.

[She winks, and cuts the feed.]
poppycock: (#11005898)
[personal profile] poppycock
[ those soft squelching sounds, insistent and crying meows, and thumps you hear are accompanied by flashes of color and white fur. this is iskra, a cat, being absolutely impossible and absolutely adorable to her sometimes master (or perhaps more aptly put, subject) klaus mikaelson.

both of which the lucky audience of wonderland gets to see, quite candidly, in a moment.
] Iskra. [ klaus' admonishment is spoken in a gruff undertone but the affection is obvious; it's not the first nor does he expect the last time his afternoon companion will demand more attention than she's due. (but that doesn't mean he won't give it to her.)

he pulls the cat against his chest, his fingers spotted just some with paint. there are speckles of color on iskra as well, and her paws, one of which she lifts to nudge at klaus' chin, leaving behind a blue spot. he blinks but is nonetheless charmed by her familiar behavior despite himself. then, not to be outdone, she reaches to do the same to the canvas.

with a soft tsk of more admonishment, klaus teases her.
] A modernist, are we? A pointillist?

[ it's only then the movement of the recording video on his phone catches klaus' attention. ] Bloody— [ the "hell" bit is cut off, mostly because iskra leaps from klaus' arms to the paw the phone now too.

fin.
]
easily: (someday love will find me in the rough)
[personal profile] easily
Video;

I realize this is my first time addressing the network directly so for those who don't know me my name is Rebekah Mikaelson and I've been here a few months now. And for those from worlds similar to my own might know that today is Valentine's Day, a overly commercialized holiday aimed at those who are in love which is all well and good if you have someone to spend it with but can be somewhat disappointing if you're single [like she is, currently, not that there isn't someone she'd like to spend the holiday with but that's another can of worms entirely] so I wanted to extend an offer:

If people want to meet me at the bar tonight we can have a little informal get together and bond over our states together, drink, and try to distract ourselves from cryptic messages from mice. It doesn't matter if we've met before or not, the offer is extended to whoever wants to take it.

That is all.

Action;

[And true to her word, Rebekah can be found at the bar like she announced. She's ordered a row of shots of vodka to begin with and when people arrive she'll be handing off shots to them as a sort of welcoming gesture. If she had had the idea sooner perhaps she could have thrown something more impressive but for now she'll have to simply make do with what she has.

In any case, it beats drinking alone.
]

[ooc: feel free to do top levels/use this as a mingle if you want to, I thought it would be a fun thing to throw up for characters who might not otherwise have plans.]

text:

Feb. 13th, 2017 10:29 pm
radiopalkiller: (he never learns)
[personal profile] radiopalkiller
Wonderland's worst feature are its events.

That's a pretty common thought, right? Only this place doesn't usually come up with events on its own. They're all just baggage it dredges up from our own worlds. When you look at it that way you could probably even make a case for Wonderland itself being pretty decent.

So here's a question: You've got the choice, go back to where you left off, or stay in Wonderland for good. Which one do you pick, and why?
therapize: maxicons @ insanejournal (37)
[personal profile] therapize
[This isn’t Cami’s first time preparing to advertise the therapy office, and some of the steps are pretty routine by now. She’s got the space neat and ready, her mirrors already broken and covered up so there would be no unwelcome interruptions from that end. She props up the phone nearby, so it can capture whatever spiel she’s about to offer to the citizens of Wonderland. The last part is figuring out just what to say, which she hasn’t quite managed yet. Cami’s plan is to give herself a bit of time, to piece together the words, and then start the video when she’s all set.

Her phone has other plans—or, you know. It would if it weren’t an inanimate object. While she means to record, Cami’s intention isn’t to broadcast. But she does, so the mansion can now watch as she paces slowly around the room with arms crossed over her chest, seemingly talking to herself.]


I think everyone would agree that the last event was incredibly difficult. [Who would say otherwise, given the constant risk of suffocation, the odd repetitions of time, the mass of jumbled and confused posts filling the network?] Unfortunately, it’s not going to be the last one that’s hard to bear. Many of the events here put us through terrible things, circumstances that no one should have to face—

So everyone feel worse about it, so you can start to feel better! [She shakes her head at herself as she realizes how that sounds. Toeing the line of truth without being blunt isn’t exactly the easiest thing to do, guys.] Okay, O’Connell. One more time, without making everyone more depressed.

[There’s silence again, Cami mulling over a better introduction. After a few minutes (and a few passes in front of the couch), she nods, bracing herself as she tries again.]

I think after the event we all just went through, everyone would agree that this world is far from a perfect place. But it doesn’t have to be perfect to still be…good. [She smiles, seemingly more satisfied with the opening.] While most of us—no. While many people are understandably eager to go home, the way things stand right now, that’s currently out of our control.

[Her pacing stops, though she smiles still. What comes next is something she’s known for a long time, but only recently truly understood.]

All we can do is try and find a way to live here in the meantime.

[She tucks her hair back behind her ear, weighing the words she’s just said. On the whole, much better than her first attempt, and she resumes walking and thinking aloud.]

And for some people, therapy can be beneficial towards doing that. It isn’t the easiest step to take; a lot of people think going to therapy means something’s wrong with them, that they aren’t good enough somehow. But as hard as it is to admit you need help—might need help—once you do…

[Her voice trails off again. Idly, Cami’s hand reaches up to toy with the pendant she’s taken to wearing as of late: a small cross made of diamonds.

God, the last few months were hard ones.]


Once you do, you’d be amazed how much better things can get.

[But she knows not to say that for real. Her personal experience aside, Cami is well aware that therapy isn’t a magic fix-it button or an immediate cure all. So she’s quick to shake her head, mentally striking that line from her upcoming speech.]

Okay, so less miracle worker at the end, but that wasn’t bad. [Dropping down on the couch, Cami reaches for the phone, meaning to review what she’s just put together, make her changes, practice once more and then broadcast for real.

As such, Wonderland gets a pretty good view of her expression when she realizes that she’s already been sending her message out over the network.]


Is this…oh God. [She groans, resting her free hand against her now reddening face.] It’s already on the network. Well, hi there, Wonderland. Welcome to this behind the scenes look at the therapist in residence embarrassing herself.

[Right. Still recording, Cami. Now is not to die of mortification.]

So obviously that was all supposed to just be practice, but it’s also true. And there is a therapist office on the sixth floor, room twenty if anyone is interested in talking.

[She sighs, but at least the sound ends with a soft laugh. What else can she do at this point?]

And I promise I’ll have the phone put away so this doesn’t happen to you.



{{ooc: Also open to action if you’d prefer to have your character just show up. Cami’s there all day.}}
ofletters: (058)
[personal profile] ofletters
[ It's a good thing nobody can see Sam right now, because the younger Winchester brother isn't having a particularly Happy New Year thus far. Why? ]

This is Sam Winchester. I need somebody who can-- someone who's got experience in, uh... Sumerian. [ He seems distracted enough to not explain, or at least to not find any humor in how obscure his request is. ] And, maybe more importantly, anyone who is good with ciphers. If you've got time, I'm in the library, and I could really use your help.

[ "What for, Sam?" There's a pause, and then: ]

I'll explain when you get here.
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.]
littledhampir: ♫ What kind of fuckery is this? (Yeah I m side-eyeing you okay.)
[personal profile] littledhampir
| Action & Threadjacking encouraged! She's in the Kitchen.|

[It's very rare that Rose graces the network in Wonderland, only having appeared once since she arrived here. That in and of itself makes this particular video rather curious. The subject at hand, likely one that's playing on everyone's mind but has Rose looking more than a little unsettled, despite her attempts to play at casual.

Clearly, she thinks the best way to deal right now, is to attempt to overdose on sugar; A plate piled high with an assortment of pastries, appearing in the corner of the shot.]


So... That whole thing with the Wonderland that wasn't really Wonderland?

[Her eyes narrow, teeth running over her lower lip as she carefully considers what she wants to say before giving it voice.]

We're all in agreement that it didn't really mean anything, right? It was just some, fake, alternate... you know, thing?

[She's obviously reaching but all this 'sciencey crap' is way outside of Rose's wheelhouse.]

Another one of Wonderland's stupid little mind games. [The unmistakable air of somebody trying to convince herself.

Rose breaks off a large chunk of a donut and pops it into her mouth, a flicker of doubt creeping in as she chews slowly.]


Right?
therapize: (i am really tired)
[personal profile] therapize
[The past weeks and months have been nothing but complicated for Cami, to say the least. She's found out a terrible truth in her future back home, and given her conversation with Freya upon the woman's return, it's safe to say there are probably a few more unwanted discoveries lurking out there, in the darkness. She's slept and she's dreamed, and maybe that's a terrible promise to come too. But right now, as the hours stretch on during the night of December 24th, Cami isn't looking to lose herself in the mire of all things that aren't fair, aren't simple, aren't right with the world.

She wants something better. Something simpler.

So she commandeers an empty room on one of the mansion's higher floors, just for the night. The decorations are sparse: some padded benches if people want to sit and think, all facing the front where there stands a table covered with rows and rows of red candles. A few are burning, most aren't. There's enough light to see in the room itself, but not so much that it overwhelms the glow of each individual flame.

When the feed starts, she's not facing the camera; instead, Cami stands in front of that table--in front of three candles, unlit in the center.]


"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."

It's a Bible verse written on the grave of someone very important to me back home. I was raised Catholic, although--[she laughs]--I'm pretty terrible at it. But I've always believed in light, and hope. In the goodness that can overcome.

Whatever's going on in our dreams is taking it's toll, and I doubt many people really feel like celebrating. But today and tomorrow do mean something, for a lot of people. For my family and I...

[Midnight mass. Listening to Kieran lead his congregation to celebrate a miracle. Voices singing in joy. The beauty of the service, and the candles glistening in the dark. Cami takes a moment to regain her thoughts, giving the phone a quick glance before continuing on.]

I've set up this room in case anyone wants a place to reflect tonight. It's on the ninth floor, room four. This isn't a religious service or anything like that. Just...somewhere where there can be peace.

[And tonight, she needs that, because the reality is? Cami's set up this place for herself. She swallows just to keep her expression calm, then reaches towards a jar at the end of the table with long, thin wooden matches inside. She picks one to light with the fire of a candle already burning before turning back to those three candles in the center. She touches the match to each one, sparking a flame before moving on to the next. Three candles, three lives.

Three deaths.

She doesn't say their names. She simply blows out the match when the task is done before turning off the video. She'll spend most of her night in that room, sitting on one of the benches regardless of whether anyone joins her, watching the lights, and listening to the silence.]
normandysbest: (« [Disgust] Don't talk 2 me or my son)
[personal profile] normandysbest
[The video comes on to show Shepard's face, looking like she is a hairline trigger from 'irritated' to 'might rend something with her bare hands', but really, can best be described as 'done with her entire life, and looking into the camera like she's on the Office as demons scream behind her. In literal Hell'.]

Alright. This probably should've been expected out of this place eventually. But y'know what? Nope. Not doing this like we've done the last couple events. 'Mm just not.

[She pans the camera around to display her surroundings, about in the middle of the 'camp' they all seem to have been dumped in.]

No more divide and falter. If you can fight, and you don't want to sit here and deal with this crap anymore, meet me here in the next half an hour. I'm setting up patrols and watches until Wonderland remembers it's ass from it's head. No shame if you can't, complete shame if you won't.

[Usually she'd smile or do a mock salute, but she's just... she's just done. She's so fucking done.]

See you soon. Don't die.
deathlessness: (across the western sky)
[personal profile] deathlessness
[The ambient sounds of Lux Deux is prominent in the background as the feed starts up again, and for a long time it is the only sound aside from the clink of the glass being moved against the bar while Freya tries to get her words in order. She’s ascertained from her siblings at this point that she’s been gone far longer than would be considered “normal” for Wonderland – if there ever was such a thing.

She could simply announce that she’s returned and leave it at that, let those who wish to seek her out come find her, but that has never been her way, and while she doesn’t wish to talk about herself, she’s curious about something else.]


A question for you, Wonderland, though it is a rather specific one.

[Her words are slow and deliberate, likely indicating the amount she’s had to drink at this point – enough to dull the events of the last few months spent home, but not enough to make her sloppy – and the sound of her placing the glass back down on the bar can be heard before she continues.]

At this point, I’m sure we’re all aware of the … complications, involving those of us arriving from different points in the same timeline. For those of us who have come here and then learned of our future before actually going home to live through it, what do you think was worse? The speculation of what was to come, or the events themselves?

[There’s a small scrape as the glass is lifted again.]

Would you prefer to have remained ignorant, or do you feel at peace having lived the truth for yourself?

[And she’ll have the device with her to answer replies, though if you would prefer to visit her in person, she would not say no to company either. She’s probably going to be at the bar for a while.]
choosetruth: (there's change coming once and for all)
[personal profile] choosetruth
If there's one thing I've learned about Wonderland in the weeks that I've been forced to start calling it home: it's that it lies to you.

But so do lots of people, right? Everyone has a reason to lie. Some people lie to hurt other people, but some people lie out of kindness. Some people try to protect you with comforting falsehoods. How do we know that Wonderland isn't lying for our own good?

I can't tell you that. I don't know Wonderland's motivations, if there even is any sort of guiding intelligence behind it and not just pure chance.

What I can tell you is this: it doesn't matter. Lying out of kindness is just as bad as lying out of cruelty. Possibly even worse. Comforting falsehoods might be nicer in the moment than cruel truths, but I'll take the truth every time. Is it better to spare a family by telling them their dying child might get better? Or to allow them to cherish the time they have left? Is it better to tell someone their writing is good? Or send them an honest critique that could let them actually improve until you could say so without it being a lie?

Is it better to lose the memories that have hurt you and spend a weekend in blissful ignorance? Or hold onto every iota of the pain that has built you and remember exactly why you fight? Lies won't take the time to heal you. Only the truth can do that.

Wonderland is the biggest lie I've ever seen. I cannot promise a way out of this gilded, wonderful cage. That would be a lie, even if it's one I'd like to believe. I can only promise that I'll do everything I can to find the truth all of those lies are working at concealing. I won't quit until I uncover all the secrets Wonderland is hiding.

Or until Wonderland gets tired of all the prodding and sends me home. Here's hoping, right?
needlebearer: (❆ 011)
[personal profile] needlebearer
[Arya looks very serious as she addresses the network today. She's still on the brink of fury, unable to shake off what had happened with Frisk.]

How many others of you had their Mirror try to murder them while the parties were going on? They have the advantage here, they know far more about us than we do them -- how do you even prepare to fight someone like that?

[She's about to switch off, then something else occurs to her and her face hardens.]

If you see my Mirror, promise me you'll kill them.

[ text ]

Sep. 11th, 2016 12:20 am
hypoxic: (we all get lost sometimes)
[personal profile] hypoxic
[Almost exactly a day after Darcy's note mentioning another murder, there's another brief text. Fitz doesn't bother leaving identifiers; it'll post with his name attached, he reasons. He considers filtering it to pertinent parties only, but thinking about who he needs to contact and what their projects were makes him queasy. This is faster.]

My apologies.
I've taken on projects for many of you who needed mechanical engineering done.
Unfortunately, there's been an incident. A substantial amount of materials were lost.
Damages have not yet been calculated. But assume there will be delays on any project ETAs previously submitted.

Your patience is appreciated.


[That's all there is to the message. It's all he can handle. Replies are slow from his end, and will be exclusively in text.]

[text][ota]

Sep. 8th, 2016 10:15 pm
saved: (121)
[personal profile] saved
[ooc: tw for body horror/decapitation. set after this. open to fourth walls given this happens the same night as the throne-room party.]

[Peter has no idea how to do this. He's still shaking, hunched in a corner, having tried to contact Bonnie only to get no response, because she's probably just passed out. It's late. He figures no matter what people want to know about this. They deserve to know. He would want to know if someone he cared about here died (ha).

He has seen dead people before. He held his Uncle Ben in his hands while he died. He was there when Captain Stacy took his final breaths, but there is something else- There is something different about stumbling on someone's head detached from their body on the floor after the action is all done in the silence when he only expects to stumble on nothing. It's different to then realize he recognizes who they are, and now he's hunched over his network device, stuck to a corner of his own room.]


If you know Faith, I found her. She died. I'm sorry. Her

She's Her body and head


She's

Her body is in my room right now. I don't know what happened. I mean she was murdered but I don't know how or who. I just found her. Also I didn't clean stuff up down there but there's blood and stuff.
[stuff being his own vomit. he still feels sick.]
walkingheroin: (consultthemuses10)
[personal profile] walkingheroin
[Lucifer is sitting at the bench of a shiny black piano, his fingers gently pressing the keys in a smooth melody with talented fingers as he starts to speak. It's unclear how he's being filmed without actually holding the device himself, but I'm sure it's probably just someone holding it for him.

Or not.]


Hello again, denizens of Wonderland. I made a promise to you all, and as you can see, I'm following through on it.

[Around him is a very lavish, large, and chic room, though it's clear that the piano he's at is in the middle of the room and slightly lower than most of the couches and tables, with the bar at the far end. There's also a stage microphone set up beside him, though he's not using it at the moment.]

Say hello to Deux Lux. Anyone with the ability to have fun is welcome and expected. Sixth floor, room sixty-six. It's a bit smaller than the original, I'm afraid, but it will do for now.

[He grins.]

Feel free to help yourself behind the bar when you arrive. If I think you have some skill when it comes to pouring cocktails, perhaps I'll offer you a job. Until those positions are filled, however, I'm afraid I can't do everything all by myself. I'm the Devil, not a miracle worker.

----------------------------

[ooc: Feel free to answer Lucifer over the network or come hang out at the club. THIS CAN BE A PARTY POST. Feel free to tag around as much as you want! I'll have my own starter for Lucifer inside and will tag around as well. Have fun <3]
martire: (disapproves)
[personal profile] martire
[Stefan wakes up on a floor and, really, the room doesn't matter because he doesn't recognize it. He doesn't see anyone even in the stretches of space he runs at high speeds. It's not long until he finds himself in a hallway and he stops when he sees a procession of mirrors. Odd and alarming, when he begins to peer into one. He steps away from it, because no thanks, and stares down the hall.

He finds a phone in his pocket, not his but obviously one all the same, and green eyes give a hard stare at it. He turns the phone over a few times, then fiddles with it until it looks like it's doing something that is reminiscent of video chat. So, he speaks. His voice is strained, eyes full of contained but deep trouble. Glaring forward in them is hot anger too, wanting to bubble up, but held down only by his iron will.]


I'm not sure what I'm expecting here, but if there's anyone out there that I know [an exasperated breath and pause, slight inward press of lips, brows raising for a moment] a reply would be great.

[A long pause, his jaw shifting back to its usual tight, unimpressed hold.]

I don't know who's to blame for this, but I need some answers. Now.

[He has no answers himself, because it's the most elaborate deception he's ever seen, if it's a mirage. There isn't anyone in Mystic Falls capable of doing this and making him feel so, so very as if he's in reality. What is going on?

As for anyone who knows him, well, he's not mentioning Elena's name. Or Damon's, for that matter. Stefan is from a time in which the girl he still very much loves is not his first priority, so that's certainly an indication of his entire self being off.]

[OOC: Feel free to just run into him too instead of replying to the video.]

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.
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.
vampdetective: (240)
[personal profile] vampdetective
[It's been a long, long time since Angel has made an appearance of any kind over the network. Normally, that's just down to the fact that he's not a social person; certain aspects of the network devices still frustrate and elude him and it's not often that he has much to say to the mansion at large, but what he has to share now has a lot to do with the other reason he's been scarce. It's been months since he's been himself, and in the week that he's had his soul back -- or was it longer, now? -- he's been withdrawn, hidden away in a room that isn't even his own, drinking animal blood far, far away from any of the resident humans, doing what he can to wean himself back off the taste that Angelus had re-awakened in his absence.

When the feed first opens, early on Tuesday morning, it's only voice, and he sounds even grimmer than he usually has in the past. It's certainly a far cry from the biting, tongue-in-cheek cheer that Angelus had displayed.]


I know there are a lot of people here who probably don't want to hear from me anytime soon.

[It feels strange, to be preparing to apologize for something almost exactly a year after he'd played a part in bringing Tom Hanniger's rampage to an end, but he had always known that this was a possibility. Here or anywhere else, there was always a chance Angelus would get out, and it might even be worse that he had waited months to hurt anyone, that he had replaced Angel for months and done damage simply by demoralizing the people Angel himself cared about.]

And I know an apology isn't enough to make up for what's been done. The last few months, the last weeks-- [He lets out a muted noise of frustration. He's not good at this, at articulating himself, at trying to express that he wants to make things right.] I can't undo anything Angelus did. I don't expect forgiveness, or anyone's trust. It's not that simple. But I wanted people to know-- I am sorry, for what he did. I'm willing to keep my distance, stay away from anyone he might have hurt, but I also--

[He sighs.]

From here on out, I also want to offer my protection. That might not be worth anything to some of you, and that's fine, but making amends for Angelus-- [That's all he has. For a long time, now, it's seemed like that's all he ever has.] I don't know if I ever truly can, but it's my job to try and atone for what he's done, regardless. What I've done.

[But that's not the only thing he has to address the network about.]

The other thing is...

[He sighs heavily, slowly, and suddenly the video feed goes live, revealing that instead of a six-foot-plus vampire, the phone is being operated by what is most definitely a puppet. A frowning, poofy-haired, caveman-foreheaded puppet.]

This event is, uh-- it's my fault. These are my memories. [And they're really, really stupid.] I'm sorry, they're-- look, just try not to touch or look directly at any television sets. That's probably safest for everyone.

(OOC: Responses will be coming from [personal profile] smiletime! If you want action anywhere within the mansion or grounds as opposed to talking over the network, Angel can bump into your character wherever and whenever you like, just include the time and place in the header!)
malefice: (ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏɪsᴏɴᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜᴛʜ)
[personal profile] malefice
[ Anyone not drooling at their television will find a very angry witch on the network during the wee hours of the morning. ~6AM and Kol is already angry and shouting... Of course he is.

The young witch that people may or may not have been introduced to as "Kaleb" looks furious; Kol's eyebrows are drawn together, wrinkling his brow, and teeth are all but snapped at each word he spits out.
]

Nik! I swear if you had anything to do with Davina going missing you won't have to fear Mikael - I will be the one to drive that bloody stake through your heart.

[ He's in Davina's room - that much is clear to anyone who's ever stepped foot inside it. Kol had searched it ten times over. Halfway through his tirade he'd begun shouting, probably waking up every resident rooming near her.

The only logical conclusion he could frantically come to was that Niklaus had her, it was no secret they were enemies and the bastard had a habit of taking Kol's things away from him when he least expected it. Controlling sod.
]

If anyone's seen Davina Claire it'd be wise to tell me.

[ He's not a vampire anymore, he can't start murdering people as easily as he could before, but that wouldn't stop him from making threats. And it's entirely possible that anyone he decides to focus his rage on might noticed their blood to start boiling in their veins. ]
malefice: (ɢᴏ!)
[personal profile] malefice
[ When the video feed comes to life, Isaac is lounging on a rather plush chair looking far more smug than he ever has in his life. He's got a cup of tea balancing on one of the arm rests and next to it a plate of biscuits - quite the sweet tooth at the moment apparently. Two things stick out like a sore thumb - the amount of stubble on the usually babyfaced teenager and the white gauze pad above his eyebrow. Of course when "Isaac" opens his mouth it becomes apparent quickly that either A) Isaac has developed a European accent or B) this isn't Isaac. ]

I'll say, one moment I was smack dab in The French Quarter and then I found myself here and I haven't a bloody clue how it happened.

[ He purses his lips a bit indignantly before speaking again. ]

And while I have to assume the company here is far superior to the company I was forced to keep there - I'm not a big fan of this unbreakable boundary spell. I'd like to meet the witch that cast it.
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.
therapize: (don't pretend it isn't)
[personal profile] therapize
For Kate Fuller )

[After she's been found and given an explanation--well, it doesn't actually do much to help Cami feel better. Certainly she's been through a physical ordeal, her skin eeriely pale as she appears over the network. The bandage on her neck is a clear indication of the cause, particularly to any who come from a world like hers, full of vampires and werewolves and witches.

Yet somehow she's ended up in a place seemingly more insane. That's something she's clearly trying to come to terms with, given the way she struggles for words during the first few seconds of her broadcast.]


Okay. So, somehow I've ended up in...Wonderland? [No, she still doesn't believe it, deep down hoping for the relief of someone calling her crazy. But she continues on; the girl who'd found her, Kate, sounded so certain. Cami can't help the pang of guilt she feels for wanting her to be wrong.] And I've already heard that it's supposed to be some wacked out magical prison that brings people in from varying realities.

Supposedly there might be people from the same place I'm from: New Orleans. On Earth. [Since again, she's supposedly not. Cami shakes her head, frustrations mounting as she forces herself to continue on.] Although I almost hope there aren't, because if they hear this they're going to think I've lost my mind. But whatever this is, I need to get in touch with them and make sure they're okay.

[Because that's what counts in the end, isn't it? If this is some sort of hallucination or actual, impossible occurance, Cami knows how much danger they were all in just before she woke here. Mikael had the stake and the blade, he knew Klaus was coming, he planned everything out and he really was homocidally nuts. She doesn't want to show it over a network of strangers, but Cami's afraid of what's happened back home, even more than she is of her current situation.]

So, if someone knows the Mikaelsons or Marcel Gerard, or a girl named Davina Claire, I'd really appreciate it if you could point me in their direction.

[She hesitates again, presses her lips together as she considers sending out a message to those people directly--to Klaus--but instead she simply ends the feed there. Hopefully it's enough.]

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