entranceway | video

[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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I find few will say the words "you can trust me" and mean them to do anything other than to manipulate others into following their will. They are meaningless words and I will place my trust as I choose. Believing you about the electricity, though, now I may do that -- you have little reason to lie.

Hard to imagine that the Chantry has not yet found a way to spread itself to other worlds. 'Tis the religious body that follows Andraste, prophet of the Maker and speaker of the Chant of Light. That you do not know if it bodes well for me; we do not get along.

I pray I do not get used to it. I would hate to grow complacent.

I have little reason to lie about most of this, you'll find.

[ Snow shrugs off Morrigan's words, unaffected by her lack of trust.

And the other words--Maker, Andraste, Chant of Light--are all foreign. ] The church in your world, I'd guess? There aren't any priests in Wonderland that I know of.

[ Yet. ]

It's hard to be complacent here. Things change very, very quickly.

Then Wonderland has good taste; there is little more annoying than the endless prattling of a sister.

[Somewhere Leliana is offended and Morrigan does not care.]

'Tis not always so unnervingly pleasant? What should one expect to change about this world?

[ Snow is about to comment about her lack of experience with the religious, but she thinks of earlier days, of witch hunts and burnings. She shivers a bit, frowning, and just ends up shaking her head. ]

Well, there are... They call them "events." Memories or things from our worlds somehow are brought here on a massive scale. It can change the landscape, can bring monsters... you'll know it when you see it, sorry to say.

A vague name for a fantastical phenomenon. So, if I understand, tomorrow this world could look like Ferelden and the worst of my world can come forth to attack helpless people who have never met a demon before. "Event" hardly describes the ominous possibility.

You're absolutely right. If you think of something more appropriate, I'm sure it could stick if you advertised it.

[ She admits a tiny smile. ]

I really hope we don't have to deal with any demons, though.

When you are a mage, demons are no possibility, but an eventuality. And they are hardly the worst of my world. A demon need only be denied access to one's body. An Archdemon, for example, already possesses a body -- a very large one, at that -- and commands hordes of darkspawn. They can only be killed by one who has drunk from tainted blood and survived, and then that person is also killed in the process. Pray we do not come up against the memory of an Archdemon. I have fought one already, and I do believe that once is enough.

[ Good lord. Snow's eyebrows shoot up at the explanation and she takes a moment to sift through it all. ]

You've fought and killed - No. You aren't dead.

[ She assumes. ]

You helped to defeat one of these... Archdemons, then? You must be powerful.

[Morrigan just barely stops herself from barking a laugh in response. Yes, she's powerful.] More powerful than those Circle mages, at least. Should a mage refuse to limit her potential, her power is, thus, limitless. The Chantry wants only to smother mages' power below its heel. I, however, am well versed in magics long forgotten, long buried.

[ She's certainly very talkative. Snow listens attentively, but discretely, making mental notes. ]

Well, some magic does need to be... controlled. [ But Snow works with the witches of the 13th floor all the time, has great respect for their skills. They're allies, but there are terrible wizards and witches on the other side that she knows better than to underestimate. ]

You've been alive for a while; you're in good company.

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