entranceway | First* Video/Action

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[Bela is standing in front of the camera, dressed in pants and shirt and a brown leather jacket-rather common clothing considering the eclectic pile of clothes behind her. If anyone cares for those kind of details they'll see a wide arrangement of clothing, from suits to cocktail dresses to waitress uniforms and even a maid costume.]

So. The closet? It's a very nice touch, I have to admit. I certainly wouldn't mind having one back home. Though seemingly free food, board, and clothing just means there's a hidden cost. So what is our benevolent caretaker charging us?

And what becomes valuable in a place like this? Is there a currency in particular items? Favors? Souls? [And there's a wry smile there to indicate that might possibly be a joke.]

Or does everyone here work on altruism?

Action A: Wandering Wonderland
[Not one to idly sit when her surroundings are so undiscovered, and therefore a little bit threatening, Bela takes to exploring the grounds with a casual step that belies just how uncomfortable she really feels. She can be found idly touching decor along the walls of the mansion, or grabbing something to eat in the dining room, or eyeing the titles of books in the library even if she doesn’t actually reach for any right now.

[ooc: This is your find her wandering anywhere you want to option.]

Action B: An unlocked room is an invitation.
[After exploring the more open grounds, Bela can be found roaming the hallways. It’s a seemingly innocent gesture by itself, except for the subtle jiggle of a handle here and there as she moves about. Just her way of...well, casing the place. Not that she’s planning on stealing anything quite yet, but she’ll feel more comfortable once she’s got a good map of the surroundings and people around her since it doesn’t seem like she’ll be leaving very soon.

Occasionally, when she finds an unlocked door, she casually opens it just to get a good idea of the room-and on the occasion that someone is actually in their room without bothering to lock the door, well, she smiles sheepishly and offers an embarrassed apology.]

Oh, I’m sorry. I have the wrong room. [Ignore the subtle sweep around the room before she tries to retreat.]

Action C: A locked one is just a challenge.
[She’s good. For a while. But after finding so many empty and unlocked rooms, she’s a little curious to see what’s inside a locked one. And just as curious to see how easy it is to pick a lock on these particular doors.

So she chooses a random one in a rather quiet hallway, listens near the door for any tell-tale sign of shuffling, and when she thinks she’s in the clear, she kneels down and jimmies the lock, before pushing the door open. If there’s no immediate reaction, she’ll take a step inside. Just a quick scouting mission, don’t worry, she’s not here to steal anything.]

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The cost is how freakin' annoying this place is. Hope you like bein' trapped.

N-No, it's only death... You come back to life later... B-But after five times, you lose something precious...

[She has a tendency to answer that as honestly as she answers everything else, but given her apparently preceded appearance here before, it's better not to be caught in a lie.]

Bela.

[A brief pause.] And who are you? Were you brought here?

Hellhounds aren't known to be gentle.

[ He'd seen it firsthand... not that he's planning on talking much about when Dean was dragged to Hell. ]

Yeah. [ He'd been duped into killing her, more like. ] She was here, though. Not long ago.

Ah. So, you're possibly one of the few sane ones. [She doesn't know many hunters that don't live and breath the lifestyle, after all. Near psychopaths that they are.]

[A pause.] And a bar? Do you man it for free?

[Family is a twisted word in Bela's experiences, but she's aware enough to know it actually means something good to a lot of people. Better to not get too carried away then. Not that she hates him, she's just not a fan of people would are likely to kill her.] How long have you been here?

Annoying how? [And she shrugs casually.] You're only trapped until you find the right door.

Care to be a bit more specific? [Precious does after all, vary from person to person. Like jewels. Those are precious. Supernatural talismans. But then there were those saps that thought feelings were precious. So.]

I-I'm not sure...

[She sniffles, already feeling like a disappointment.]

... W-when I was about it, I-I was... panicking, and she had to calm me down, so I didn't ask any further...

I do, but I like the work. I like keeping busy.

[She's always been that way, as long as she can remember. Idleness never suited her well.]

Besides, it means I get to know just about everyone in Wonderland, and that's pretty damn valuable. Sometimes they end up being friends, sometimes not so much, but it comes in handy, being able to put all those names and faces together.

[She pauses, smiling wryly.]

It'll be three years in April.

Trust me, I'm aware. [Yeah, she got a taste of it before coming here. No need to share details.

And OMG Sam, why do you have to tell her things like that? Was that really necessary?] ...I see. What did you do?

[Woah. Wait. What? Why are there waterwork threats here? What did she say?...And what the hell is this girl saying?]

...Try that again. Possibly with a little more detail.

[While working for free goes against pretty much every fiber of her being...she has to admit that Jo has a point there. Learning people is certainly a valuable thing. And right now, she's not seeing much value in anything else.]

Perhaps I'll stop in for a drink then.

[A brow arches. Not that she's honestly got a reason to complain when all she has waiting for her is Hell.]

Is that common, to be here that long?

... I-I was talking to my therapist, miss O'Connell... I w-was telling her about the time I had... D-died... and she told me that at the fifth death, y-you lose something precious.

[She shuts her eyes, desperately trying not to remember her own 'deaths'.]

I-I got scared, because, I d-don't want to lose what l-little I have... My j-journal, my f-friends, my m-memories, my t-talent...

[ She'd locked the door.

She'd locked the door when she'd stopped back in her room to take a quick nap, right? She'd like to think it was maybe one of the guys - maybe pulling a prank. She wouldn't put it past Blake or Tony, maybe even Sam although they might not be quite there yet. Definitely not Steve. While Jane had 3 degrees, lock-picking wasn't covered in one of them. So, she opts to go safe rather than sorry when the sound persists considering what had happened to her once upon a time at the hands of a mirror and later a demon. But, she hadn't heard anything on the networks and her phone had been fairly quiet. Should be okay, right? Sure.

Digging her taser out of her bag, she makes sure to set it to the human setting rather than the God one to start off. It tended to be easier to not have to explain herself too much. And most Gods she knew didn't pick locks.

Standing up from her spot on the couch, she waits in her room for the visitor to figure out the lock - taser leveled on the door when it finally opens. ]

'Sup.

[ So smooth. ]

Door's always open. Occasionally, you'll find it's self-serve, but there's usually someone there.

[She's kind of amassed a small army of bartenders over the last couple of years, though the roster has changed a few times.]

I wouldn't say it's common? There are a handful of people who have been here longer than that, even, but not everyone is here for the long haul. Some people come and go so quickly it was like they were never here at all, then you've got veterans who've been here for five or six years themselves.

Annoying in that it likes to put you through the wringer. And good luck findin' any door. Do you know how many prisons I've busted out of lady? And I'm still stuck here after a flarkin' year.

Bela? [He repeats after her, just because the name is far from being like Maggie and he needs to process that. How she's definitely not Maggie, either.

His lips push into a little frown of disappointment and a small bit of hesitancy.]

Yeah, um, my name's Carl. I was brought here like everybody else.

It will only charge you your sanity.

[ And memories, of course, but Crowley doesn't want to be the one to break that whole thing to her. Really, it's not his problem. ]

_{[Hm. Well, then.

He considers the options she presents him for a brief second, some of the tension leaving his shoulders once he sees there's no reason to lie. By her choice of words, she already knows, or at the very least suspects, that people have some odd recollections of her. With that proverbial cat out of the bag, he needn't worry about being the first to break the news.]}

You bear a considerable likeness to someone I once met here, yes.

_{[To put it lightly.]}

Can I presume it's Miss Bela?

_{[She hadn't given her full name, but as he digs around in his memory, he recalls she'd given her first.]}

I doubt Death is going to steal your journal as compensation for dying on him five times. [Really? You're a sweet girl, but Bela's starting to get the impression she's a little naive too.]

Perhaps you just don't come back. ...How many times have you died? [Having just experienced her own...well. She can maybe understand the sentiment, even if she can't share it.]

[Seriously. How many of you people sleep during the day here?! How boring is this place?

Bela freezes at the voice when she steps into the room, eyes darting directly to the source before landing on the taser. Hm. Well. Not the worst thing she's has pointed at her, actually. But no less unwanted.

So she stills and makes sure her hands are visible in front of her, but she's not inclined to put them up. That's a display of surrender, which is not how she works.]

It seems I've found myself in the wrong room. My apologies.

Well, I am capable of pouring my own alcohol if I have to. [Not that she actually plans on drinking much until she's got this place canvased properly.] I don't suppose you have any good ports?

It's rather random then? [Well. Here's hoping.] Do you want to go back?

That was certainly clarifying. [Sarcasm. It's dripping.]

Well, perhaps you're not as good as you thought. After all, you did wind up in prison in the first place, hm?

Sorry. [There's nothing all that apologetic about her tone though, but she feels inclined to say something with that little kid frown. Humanity quit meaning anything to her long ago, but, well. Children, it's the closest she comes to caring. Still, they trail behind cats. And talismen. And money. Whatever.]

How old are you, Carl?

...[Oh. It's you. The asshole who took the gun and she still died. Well, she has the perfect 'fuck you' smile for this occasion.]

No dealing your way out of Wonderland?

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C... /cracks knuckles - pretend I'm not on hiatus

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sobs, you're too kind

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