Alice Kruger ▶ Remi Briggs ▶ Jane ▶ Jane Weller (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
endingpoint) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entranceway2017-02-01 10:43 am
endingpoint) wrote in entranceway2017-02-01 10:43 am
swift hardhearted stone ღ anon text/action/one not so anon text at the end
t e x t
[ Jane doesn't want to potentially upset anyone, not when she knows there are so many people in Wonderland who are eager to go home, or don't want to be stuck here while slowly losing their memories. She's one of them. That's why she's anonymous. But she still wonders something, and it's been coming up a lot more. The only way to know if other people wonder the same things is to ask, right? ]
I've been wondering: people get upset about being here for a long time and losing all of their memories of home, eventually. Does anyone know exactly how long that takes?
Also, is there a specific reason why it matters?
(Other than the big thing, losing yourself, which I get is a huge deal.) But, in theory, even if you forget everything while you're here, as soon as you're home, you remember again. Who you are, where you're from. It all comes back and then it's Wonderland and all the people here you've connected with that you forget.
Right?
I guess I was just wondering if people are as passionate about the ones who would be stuck here in their wake, as they are about the people they miss at home that don't even know they're gone. I can tell you I don't know where I fall half the time.
[ No one's particularly missing her at home, so. ]
a c t i o n
[ It never feels like there's a specific place Jane wants to go in Wonderland when she's restless. Most of the time she finds herself wandering if she has no tattoo appointments, or tucked away somewhere sketching. For today, there's a little bit of browsing in the library (she picks up classic novels this time around plus two cookbooks) before she tucks herself in the main entrance of the mansion with her sketchbook after finding a comfortable, oversized chair. She'd thought to sketch the grand doors and the view from the windows, but instead, her mind has something else in store. The memory she has is fuzzy, but she's sure the person she's sketching is her brother. He has a scar, the same as the boy she remembered months and months ago, and the same as the man in the photo she received in her stocking. It gives her hope that she has a family out there somewhere, even if she doesn't know his name.
When she's done, she goes to the dining room and pulls out one of the cookbooks, flipping to random pages with food that seems worth trying. As she notes what looks good, the dishes appear in front of her until she has a full meal with ample portion sizes. Which prompts a (non-anon this time) text once again, hours apart from her original message with an image attached: ]
Anyone wanna come help me eat this food? Dining room. BYO fork.
[ Jane doesn't want to potentially upset anyone, not when she knows there are so many people in Wonderland who are eager to go home, or don't want to be stuck here while slowly losing their memories. She's one of them. That's why she's anonymous. But she still wonders something, and it's been coming up a lot more. The only way to know if other people wonder the same things is to ask, right? ]
I've been wondering: people get upset about being here for a long time and losing all of their memories of home, eventually. Does anyone know exactly how long that takes?
Also, is there a specific reason why it matters?
(Other than the big thing, losing yourself, which I get is a huge deal.) But, in theory, even if you forget everything while you're here, as soon as you're home, you remember again. Who you are, where you're from. It all comes back and then it's Wonderland and all the people here you've connected with that you forget.
Right?
I guess I was just wondering if people are as passionate about the ones who would be stuck here in their wake, as they are about the people they miss at home that don't even know they're gone. I can tell you I don't know where I fall half the time.
[ No one's particularly missing her at home, so. ]
a c t i o n
[ It never feels like there's a specific place Jane wants to go in Wonderland when she's restless. Most of the time she finds herself wandering if she has no tattoo appointments, or tucked away somewhere sketching. For today, there's a little bit of browsing in the library (she picks up classic novels this time around plus two cookbooks) before she tucks herself in the main entrance of the mansion with her sketchbook after finding a comfortable, oversized chair. She'd thought to sketch the grand doors and the view from the windows, but instead, her mind has something else in store. The memory she has is fuzzy, but she's sure the person she's sketching is her brother. He has a scar, the same as the boy she remembered months and months ago, and the same as the man in the photo she received in her stocking. It gives her hope that she has a family out there somewhere, even if she doesn't know his name.
When she's done, she goes to the dining room and pulls out one of the cookbooks, flipping to random pages with food that seems worth trying. As she notes what looks good, the dishes appear in front of her until she has a full meal with ample portion sizes. Which prompts a (non-anon this time) text once again, hours apart from her original message with an image attached: ]
Anyone wanna come help me eat this food? Dining room. BYO fork.
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How about you? Has talking about all of this helped set your mind more at ease?
[They're pretty hefty ideas to grapple with--whether to stay or go, whether they'll remember one thing or another.
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[She's definitely not alone in that.]
A little talk therapy can go a long way to keeping you ripping your hair out. If it's helping with that, I'd consider your message a success.
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We're agreed on that last part. We're stuck together, might as well make the most of it.
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Thank you.
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If you can't, the network's only a button away and I like to talk. Probably too much.