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

All we know for sure, is a queen rules one side of this place. It's on the other side of the mirrors. There are duplicates of us over there, usually...whatever your personality is here, it's the opposite.

[Get it? Like a mirror. She never wants to meet hers.]

The Queen of Hearts controls them, and far as we know, the magic is sourced from that side. This place feeds on our memories. Every now and then the whole place might change. Or threats might seep in. Just depends on the person's memory that week.

Opposite duplicates? Now that does sound like fantasy. But I said I would believe what you say, so believe you I shall. [She's fought images of herself before, thanks Andraste, but those were simply apparitions. A world full of doubles on the other side of a mirror... Well, it's appropriate, if a bit far-fetched.]

Changes how? We live the memory taken from the victim? [Please let that not be right, she doesn't want anyone experiencing her memories. Or anywhere near her head, thank you.]

[Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but.]

Yeah. This place has been bizarre as hell. Dangerous, too.

[Speaking of memories no one should have to experience: zombie apocalypse.]

When the closets work, stock pile weapons. Food too, because you never know if that'll go away for a while.

[Ugh. Displaying her memories for all to see -- this place is already sounding terrible.]

I have weapon enough in my hands. [Which are empty, but that's what she means. She's armed even if she doesn't look it.] But as for keeping food -- your advice seems sound.

[Her eyes glance down at Morrigan's hands, then back up. Magic. She said she was magic, and Michonne has no reason to doubt that.]

This place can be enjoyable, too. Don't get me wrong. But it's better to just...be prepared.

It does have a pleasant atmosphere that belies the danger within. Perhaps a simpler person may find comfort in that pleasantness. I, however, do not find comfort so easily in false hospitality. [She hardly finds comfort in true hospitality.] What is there to enjoy in a prison?

[Michonne likes her already.]

For some of us it can be a reprieve. Some home realms...worlds...[Whatever.] have gone to shit. So this is less terrible on most days.

I can see your point. I know nothing of other worlds, save for the Fade. Mine is no paradise, but it could be worse, I suppose. What of your world, then? Tell me of it.

[Her hands go to her hips in a comfortable position as she shifts her katana on her back.]

Fucked. That's what my world is.

[Michonne honestly has no idea if that's a universal expletive, but oh well.]

There's a...virus. Sickness that everyone's infected with, makes it so that when they die they don't stay dead. They come back. They're just not human anymore. All they do at that point is tear into people. The people left alive become the food. Only way to kill them, destroy the brain. We didn't know in the beginning, everything got too bad, too fast.

[Her shoulders drop a little as her hands fall back to her sides.]

There's not a lot of the living left.

[Don't worry, Morrigan knows what "fucked" means.]

I suppose this is a marked improvement, then. Even the worst my world has to offer is not constant; there are reprieves and presumably parts of society that do not suffer for it. Things are improving, in fact -- we had just ended the Blight, after all.

[Michonne likely doesn't know what a Blight is, but Morrigan continues regardless,]

In my world, there are those who suffer more than others. Mages must choose between a life of secrecy and fear and a life of imprisonment. Elves either live separate from society entirely or as little more than the dirt below humans' shoes. Many of all races live in poverty. The Blight was unkind to much of Ferelden -- towns were destroyed, people killed. But they will recover, as people do. There have been Blights in the past, and there will be more in the future.

The dead do walk in my world as well, occasionally. I have seen it myself. But they are but puppets commanded by demons, nothing more.

[That's a lot, and every place has something. She doesn't understand everything, but she understands enough to know that both of them, in their own ways, are fighters.]

I hope this place can be good for you at least some of the time. It won't always be, but if you can get something out of it, you should.

[Morrigan hesitates, not normally one to receive well-wishes from a stranger, and less one to accept them. Her jaw is tight as she wills herself not to look away, not wanting to be seen as weak to something as little as extended kindness.]

It will be simply as it is, good or bad. I am not one to pale in the face of adversity, nor am I one to grow complacent in times of peace. It may serve its purposes, as I do have some need to stay hidden for the time being. As long as no one I would rather not find me arrives here, then that will be what I can get out of this place.

[Michonne gives a short nod - she can respect that, she respects Morrigan herself, and gestures to the device in her hand again.]

Reach out if you need anything. People generally offer to help. This isn't normal to just about everyone who gets sucked in here. So people help.

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