► voice.

[crisised]

Alright. Let me see if I've got this straight. [ slight pause as she sucks in a big breath. ] In one day I've gone from the one-year-ish anniversary of being stuck in Gotham under some weird dome, to being forced to fight against another city in some bizarre multiversal death match, to now... being in Wonderland. Which is a magic kidnapping pocket dimension and not actually a fictional place made up of political satire or scientific and mathematical pondering, depending on which interpretation you go with.

[ there's an even longer pause this time, followed by a loud exhale. kara's trying to blow her bangs out of her face. ]

Right. Great. That's just... great.

You know what? I think I have to call it. My life has reached peak weirdness today. There's no way it can get weirder than this, even if somebody from the 5th dimension shows up.

[ another pause, this one filled with the sound of someone flopping backwards onto bedding. ]

Anyway. This is probably a long shot, but I was with some people when I got teleported here, and I was wondering if someone had heard of them? Their names are Jesse Chambers, Donna Troy, and Jennifer-Lynn Hayden.

[ this pause is tangibly awkward. ]

There's, uh. Also a gorilla? His name is Bill. He's really friendly and a nice gold color, can't miss him. He may also have a small human child with him since he was babysitting when the world decided to go sideways.

video; lost in a sea of broken things

[screwedontight]

[It didn't take Seth long to figure out a few things. For one, he isn't in a goddamn parking lot anymore. That is the first big clue he has that something was wrong. Instead it looks like someone's great Aunt's attic, complete with some creepy ass dolls, doilies tangled up in a box and a lot of dust. The latter of which is smudged along one cheek when the camera comes on.

It isn't his phone, and Seth isn't really bothering with finding out who owns it. Obviously whoever put him in this attic is waiting for him to find it, so why disappoint?

So there is one smudged, angry man holding the camera up with skills that do not speak of a selfie queen.]

Okay, this is cute. No, really. I mean, whatever you drugged me with? I don't even have a fucking hangover, and the attic? A nice touch. Except this is fucking bullshit, and when I make my way through this crap to the door? Someone's going to fucking pay.

[As he speaks, his voice raises, harder than the cutesy tones when he started.]

So looks like you've got...

[He looks away from the camera, eyes narrowing as he judges the distance.]

Let's say about fifteen minutes before I dig my way out of this and start demanding answers.

And a new fucking suit because this dust? This shit is never coming out! And there's a tear in my jacket. What the fuck is wrong with you? Whoever you are.

accidental audio;

[saunteredvaguelydownwards]

[Something is playing a very crisp version of the opening of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture. Strangely enough, someone is also quietly humming Queen's Who Wants to Live Forever in a strange counterpoint to the gentle strings.

This goes on for a couple of minutes, before it seems to turn off on its own.]