Mandy Slade (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
smileslie) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entranceway2014-07-17 10:16 am
smileslie) wrote in entranceway2014-07-17 10:16 am
001 ☆ | [audio]
[Mandy's actually very used to waking up in strange places without having much memory of how she got there, and Wonderland has a leg up on some in that she's still fully dressed. The phone's confusing as all hell, she's not used to one that one can do more than talk on, but she figured that out after punching a few buttons. She really is much more clever than the airhead act she'd been putting on most of the last three years.
Still, the act--The Divine Miss Mandy Slade--doesn't die as easily as she would like. She should have known that it would take far more than a pile of legal mumbo jumbo to get Brian Slade out from under her skin, to stop performing every bloody second of her life. So, what the citizens of Wonderland will hear is certainly not her real voice--which would come out very flat, tired, and American. Instead, they'll hear an almost coyingly-sweet accent anyone with half a brain will know is a very fake British]
Right, since it appears I actually haven't gone completely off my rocker just yet after all, I've just a few questions for all you boys and girls and....whomever else may be inhabiting this lovely little estate. The first being that there are two men I am quite curious to know the whereabouts of. One might be a bit harder to spot, a Mr. Curt Wild. Although, if he's been here for any length of time without access to an electric guitar or certain other--indulgences, I suspect he may have made his presence a bit better known. The other may be going by any number of names, although the most likely would be Mistah Brian Slade. You'd know him by his shockingly blue hair and--
[half a dozen of Brian's other body parts go through her mind, and it hurts, remembering how beautiful he was once upon a time. How beautiful it all was, for a moment.
She clears her throat, before she actually starts crying again. She's done enough of that, and she swears that giving Brian the satisfaction of seeing it as he laughed her out of his life will be the last time it happens. The accent drops, suddenly, and if anyone could see her face they could almost see the mask she'd plastered on fall as well. It was easier to talk about Curt; she doesn't fear what being in his presence might make her do]
My other question is, does anyone happen to have any smokes?
Still, the act--The Divine Miss Mandy Slade--doesn't die as easily as she would like. She should have known that it would take far more than a pile of legal mumbo jumbo to get Brian Slade out from under her skin, to stop performing every bloody second of her life. So, what the citizens of Wonderland will hear is certainly not her real voice--which would come out very flat, tired, and American. Instead, they'll hear an almost coyingly-sweet accent anyone with half a brain will know is a very fake British]
Right, since it appears I actually haven't gone completely off my rocker just yet after all, I've just a few questions for all you boys and girls and....whomever else may be inhabiting this lovely little estate. The first being that there are two men I am quite curious to know the whereabouts of. One might be a bit harder to spot, a Mr. Curt Wild. Although, if he's been here for any length of time without access to an electric guitar or certain other--indulgences, I suspect he may have made his presence a bit better known. The other may be going by any number of names, although the most likely would be Mistah Brian Slade. You'd know him by his shockingly blue hair and--
[half a dozen of Brian's other body parts go through her mind, and it hurts, remembering how beautiful he was once upon a time. How beautiful it all was, for a moment.
She clears her throat, before she actually starts crying again. She's done enough of that, and she swears that giving Brian the satisfaction of seeing it as he laughed her out of his life will be the last time it happens. The accent drops, suddenly, and if anyone could see her face they could almost see the mask she'd plastered on fall as well. It was easier to talk about Curt; she doesn't fear what being in his presence might make her do]
My other question is, does anyone happen to have any smokes?
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But she's going to keep on faking being fine, because that's the only thing that's gotten her this far]
Well, at least in the case of the former--I'd say gentleman, but that would be quite the misnomer--I'm actually rather delighted to know I won't have to be picking up after any messes he'd be sure to leave for me.
[she'd like to talk to Curt, though. She wants to tell him about what a prick Brian was today, and how much it sucks to still want him in spite of that.
She manages to laugh a little]
Well fancy that. I'm not used to enjoying spending much time inside a closet.
[pretending she's witty makes it a lot easier to act like she's not a mess okay]
Now, I'm quite used to waking up in strange places, but one with such an--accommodating wardrobe is rather novel. You wouldn't happen to know just how I wound up here?
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Wonderland found a use for you. I believe that's all it really takes.
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Hmm. Well, I'm not quite sure what that would be, unless a great number of people are looking for someone to help update their wardrobes or some of my less...socially acceptable talents, but I suppose I'll take either at this point, considering I am effectively unemployed back home now.
[she knows it's sad when your marriage was your job, but it's the closest truth she has]
Oh, where are my manners today? [besides all over Brian's floor, after that little tirade she went on] It really is poor manners not to inroduce oneself to a gentleman so kind as to tell a lady where she can get a much needed fix. [which she is going to the wardrobe right now to go about procurring. Her desire for a cigarette is very strong indeed, as she finds herself with a packet rather quickly] Mandy Slade, by the way [she mumbles around the cigarette she is very obviously lighting up as the whole Wonderland bit finally hits]
Do pardon me if this comes out more than a bit crass, but just what variety of button have they given the lot of us for all this to be so believeable?
[she's still not sure she's not stoned okay, which is why she's accepting the smoke-giving-closet]
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[Another dry chuckle.] You must have had quite the day.
[She sounds like it. The harried and hiding it are usually the sorts to accept just about anything with very little skepticism, because there's no sense to it. Either it's real or it's not. They haven't the time to debate it.]
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[it's a small thing, a technicality, but it will mean that in at least one way she'll free of him.
She hums a little around her cigarette, letting out a loud exhale of smoke] Well, I am all that I suppose. You can't really be all that bothered by nonsense when brilliant, amazing husband begins calling himself Maxwell Demon, after all.
[it is so very surreal to have to explain that, though]
Oh, you haven't the foggiest idea, darling. I'm sure I will be taking this back very shortly, from the little I'm gathering, but you've no idea how bloody thrilled I am to be out of London right now.
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Give it time. Once the true nonsense starts, I think even the worst of atrocities can be endured to be free of Wonderland. But I'm certainly not going to begrudge you a moment to enjoy yourself. Liberation can be quite rewarding, regardless of the cost.
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So tell me then, darling, what sorts of atrocities should a girl start steeling herself for?
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[It's a bit split on who has dealt with magic before and who thinks it's nonsense. She seems to be the type to be in the middle category who are at least open to the possibility it exists.]
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Well, living with a pop idol finds one doing at least the latter fairly often, although the first two would be rather novel experiences. And--well, it's been quite a long time since I could say it was my first time doing anything.
How long does this business tend to last? Because I can't say I terribly fancy the idea of being a knobbly teenager again for any considerable length of time.
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Seems it's my lot to be stuck with artists who think they're god. Or gods who think they're artists, take your pick. I'll probably be cursing myself quite soundly for saying this later, but it seems it could be a great deal worse.
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