entranceway | ♪: (2nd melody) [text] friendships

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♪: (2nd melody) [text] friendships

Dear Wonderland,

I suppose it is time to give myself a proper introduction to those not familiar with me. My name is Sona, called the maven of the strings by many. I am a healer, if need be, please feel free to contact me velocissimo, should you be wounded or ill.

I am curious to see if any of you would care to come to a small impromptu concert, if not, a simple sitting with tea is perfectly fine. I do not know many of you, and I plan to change that. If you choose the latter, be aware that I cannot speak.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

If it just turned up in your room one day, you should probably check it for hidden cameras. That's what I do when something's been planted in my room back home and ninety-seven percent of the time, it's bugged. Other than that, I'm totally down for hearing a rare instrument get played.

I was found with it when I was a baby. I have no memory of it, and I doubt there were cameras where I was found.

It has abilities beyond normal instruments. The Etwahl can heal and even sooth the emotions. I have seen grievous wounds closed by its melodies.

What time would be convenient for you? I'm trying to create a date that will work for everyone.

Whoa, dude. That's pretty fucking sweet. How long do the effects last?

[He could definitely go for some of that right about now.]

Eh, whenever suits everyone else. The only thing I've got planned is skulking in my room and working on a brainwave blocker.

The effects last long as the music is being played, but the healing does last after it. The wounds do not reopen.

[Sulking? Oh, that will not do! Sona is joy and happiness!!]

Why are you sulking? And..why are you working on a brainwave blocker?

Shit. That's awesome. So you're a doctor?

[Kyle folds his arms and leans back in his chair. This could get pretty lengthy.]

I've discovered that I might not be real and that my crappy-ass mirror doesn't have two braincells to bash against each other, so he can't help me reason it out. I mean, I know that the fictional can be just as real to people emotionally as things that actually happen in their lives, but I never wanted to be potentially fictional. I don't like the thought of some asshole pulling my strings. And my best friend isn't here.

I need a brainwave blocker because the mansion must be hacking into our brainwaves in order to provide immediate translations of everything we say. Since the mansion is clearly a douche, I don't want that to happen.

I am a healer. I don't know much about the scientific workings of the body.

[She listens to him..hmm..]

You are not fictional, and I apologize about your best friend. Perhaps he will come here later?

..That is a good idea, but I do wonder how you could get the technology here.

But someone from here recognised me from a TV show. Either I've been living in some sick reality show, or I'm made up. I wouldn't be the first one here who is.

[His voice gradually increases in pitch as he talks, only to turn hollow again when he continues speaking.]

I don't know. One of my friends from home is here, but with my luck it'll be the fatass who turns up next.

[Yeah, let's think about the brainwave blocker. That's a much better topic, because at least he has some control over that.]

The closets are pretty good at providing stuff. I just need to research materials and how it'll work, I think. Is it something you have on your world?

Who said that is the only option? Couldn't what is real in one world be fictional in the next? There must be another explanation, because clearly you are independent.

The technology exists. In my home some places have little to do with scientific regulation, but I am not a scientist. Many of them are..well..a little bit mad.

They didn't recognise me in this world full of fictional characters I once went to. But I guess if that was some sister world parallel to my own maybe the rules there would be different to the rules elsewhere?

That's the thing - how do I know that I'm independent? Sure, I can think, but it's possible that each of my thoughts is scripted out for me.

[He grabs a pen and paper.]

Can you remember what the technology is called? Even some of the components would be a massive help.

Stranger things have occurred. Are you sure the person was not lying?

I highly doubt everything you say is scripted.

..Hextech..hmm..

No, I do not recall its name, only the manufacture.

Pretty damn sure. He knew what colour my school was, my brother's name, stuff about my mom - things that I hadn't told anyone here.

How do you know? I mean - I was a cartoon character. What if I can't even fart without someone's approval and hours of meticulous animation work?

[He makes a note of the name.]

I'll see if the closets can pull anything up. Worst case scenario: I wind up with nothing or their entire range falls out of there.

Does it really matter? Your memories still exist. They are real to you. I can tell your soul is in great turmoil over this. Perhaps you could use mental relief. Would you be willing to let me help you?

Do be careful. The manufacture does create some choice weapons as well.

Of course it matters! They could cancel the show and I'd never get older! Or they might kill me off because I'm not necessary to the formula any longer. Oh God, what if this is just a spin off and I'll never get to go home?

[He nods.]

Yeah, hit me up with the mental whatsits. Shit, I can't even get excited about futuristic space weapons.

[Oh, the poor thing. However, this is pretty..interesting. No one has recognized her. Does that mean she is real and he isn't?]

..You think we are all stuck in something fictional?

You will get home. I've heard of others going home.

[Sigh.]

Meet me in the tea room on the second floor.

Also, I may be able to grant you one of those weapons, if you cannot, but be aware that they are quite dangerous.

[This one is pretty cool, but she fears him shooting someone's eye out.]

Dude, we're in Wonderland. As in, the titular location from Alice in Wonderland. The place itself is clearly fictional.

I'll be right there.

[And a little while later, he follows up on his promise. He makes himself comfy in a seat, but he's still plainly upset. His communicator is out ready to continue the conversation through text - he remembered what she said about not being able to talk.]

..Well, I've never heard of such a place.

[This is fucking weird, okay? Well, whatever. Sona is seated on the damn floor, because why not? It gives her enough room to play the instrument. She strikes a sad chord when he enters, a strange sound that somehow shows her worry.]

I will begin when you are ready. Simply close your eyes and relax.

Uh, sure.

[He closes his eyes, then opens them again.]

Wait, promise that you're not going to render me unconscious and sell my organs on the black market.

Why would I want to do that? I'm sure no black market even exists in wonderland.

..Trust me, I've been doing my job for a very long time.

[And what is that? Helping others, of course!!]

Then you've got more faith in this place than I do.

[He closes his eyes again and tries to relax.]

[And she makes merry with the music, a soothing, relaxing tone that treats neurons just like strings, playing them in a pleasing manner. She steadies and calms him. Maybe she does have too much faith in this place, but it hasn't been that bad yet.]

[The tension in his back fades and he slides lower in his seat. His worries don't seem that important any longer.]

Dude. This is better than acid.

[Maybe she's a horrible person for giving someone the brief escape they need, but really, she tries to help. Eventually she stops playing and stares at him.]

I would hope so.

Do you feel any better?

[The effect only lasts for as long as the music is being played, but..whatever, she hopes it refreshed him.]

[He starts when the music finishes, not expecting the sudden end to the feeling. Still, he can't deny that it was a relief to be less wound up for a while.]

Yeah, a bit. Thanks.

So will the healing effects of your instrument work even if it's just a recording or do you have to play it live for every person?

[She gives him a shrug of her shoulders.]

I'm not entirely sure. I've never been recorded.

You should test it out! It'd be a medical revolution if it worked.

♪: (2nd melody) [text] friendships

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