John Blake (
oversight) wrote in
entranceway2017-05-22 06:15 am
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File Z5287452 - No Context
[ While he's known for being pretty quick to assess a situation and pick up on what's going on, there hasn't hardly been time for that before Robin John Blake is addressing the network, a rather uneasy expression wrinkling his forehead, his whole being scrunched up while he tries to get used to using a video function that is nowhere near standard in his time and place. ]
Uh... Know this is gonna sound kinda weird, but— [ Believe it or not, John Blake, there isn't much you could say that the denizen of Wonderland would consider weird, but you go ahead and give it a try, buddy. ] Well... don't s'pose I'm dreamin', am I?
[ It feels like a good guess because he doesn't remember traveling, and he certainly doesn't remember leaving home, and since the last thing he'd done was attend a funeral, it could be a strange coincidence, a fabrication of his mind that's now semi-lucid, sitting here telling him how what he sees and feels can't be what's actually happening. People don't just appear in storybooks (and even if he did, it wouldn't be this celebrated tale). ]
Barrin' that, think I might be dead... [ It's mumbled in an off-hand way, as if maybe he's already considered it, but decided not to lead with that theory. Audible to the rest, even if he's quick to move on from saying it. ] But on the off chance I'm not either of those things, think someone could help me out figurin' what's goin' on here?
[ He likes to think a uniform would have added something to this request, but having just given up his badge for good, all he can do is address everyone as a regular guy — definitely not his first choice, since it usually does him no favors.
He looks like he's done, about to end the transmission, when something else occurs to him. ] —in person, if possible. Not really— Not really much of a fan of these things, not if I can help it.
[ He can't, not here, but he'll at least be content to try for a while. With luck, it won't even matter when he wakes up from all of this... ]
Be— [ A gesture over his shoulder. ] Gonna be outside for a while — out front. So... yeah.
[[ OOC: Video, audio, or action perfectly okay, just note. Will also match style. For starters, send a PM to this account or hit me up @ blakeroo on plurk. :) ]]
Uh... Know this is gonna sound kinda weird, but— [ Believe it or not, John Blake, there isn't much you could say that the denizen of Wonderland would consider weird, but you go ahead and give it a try, buddy. ] Well... don't s'pose I'm dreamin', am I?
[ It feels like a good guess because he doesn't remember traveling, and he certainly doesn't remember leaving home, and since the last thing he'd done was attend a funeral, it could be a strange coincidence, a fabrication of his mind that's now semi-lucid, sitting here telling him how what he sees and feels can't be what's actually happening. People don't just appear in storybooks (and even if he did, it wouldn't be this celebrated tale). ]
Barrin' that, think I might be dead... [ It's mumbled in an off-hand way, as if maybe he's already considered it, but decided not to lead with that theory. Audible to the rest, even if he's quick to move on from saying it. ] But on the off chance I'm not either of those things, think someone could help me out figurin' what's goin' on here?
[ He likes to think a uniform would have added something to this request, but having just given up his badge for good, all he can do is address everyone as a regular guy — definitely not his first choice, since it usually does him no favors.
He looks like he's done, about to end the transmission, when something else occurs to him. ] —in person, if possible. Not really— Not really much of a fan of these things, not if I can help it.
[ He can't, not here, but he'll at least be content to try for a while. With luck, it won't even matter when he wakes up from all of this... ]
Be— [ A gesture over his shoulder. ] Gonna be outside for a while — out front. So... yeah.
[[ OOC: Video, audio, or action perfectly okay, just note. Will also match style. For starters, send a PM to this account or hit me up @ blakeroo on plurk. :) ]]
oh good, he didn't run away
I can't speak for everyone else, but I've learned self defense, the people from home and I set up a lab for people to use... not that it'll probably be happening again anytime soon after what went down. [ Because science has to have a level of trust in a place like this because of how much can go wrong. ]
Also there's some downtime between events... [ She takes a breath, unsure if she's the first person to respond to him or explain anything. ] Has anyone told you about events or what likes to happen around here every other week or so?
Not yet!!
[ He's been told about magical closets, though, and that he can pick a room, any room. It's been something of a whirlwind of activity, the kind that Blake's only really had to experience in the past six months. Before the siege on Gotham, he'd lived a pretty quiet life.
John runs a hand through his hair sending it all manner of directions. ]
Did you say there's a coffee place? Maybe a cup'd be okay right 'bout now, yeah. Before we start gettin' into the heavy stuff.
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[ She didn't want to be a Debbie Downer, but if there was one person she was going to be honest with right now, it's him. She can't keep a slight shift of tone in her voice as she speaks those words, volume softening as she shifts to scuff a foot against the ground gently. Sometimes, sometimes she really hated this place. Especially when the aftermath of an event was worse than the actual thing.
Her head perks up at the mention of her shop, grateful to be able to physically do something with her hands that would be more productive than fidgeting as she attempted to restrain her usual antics of speaking with them... which she was already failing at. ]
Yeah, that's a good plan. Coffee can help with just about anything, but I also have booze if the coffee's not strong enough for the hard topics. If you wanna follow me, it's not super far - first floor right next to the training rooms.
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With plenty of time to decide — without a job, he's not beholden to a schedule — he follows Darcy the short distance to the coffee shop. ]
Said you've been here a while. How long?
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Yeah, just hit three years last month. [ Yeah, that still felt weird to say out loud. ]
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[ But that's got nothing to do with the fact that Darcy's saying it. Had his memories remained intact, he'd be a different kind of appalled, but instead he's spending so much time and thought on how anyone could stand this place for quite so long.
Just what would he look like three years in?
Disturbed, but not willing to allow himself to be sidetracked, he puts the massive amount of time out of his mind and looks back to Darcy. ]
Three years livin' here? Really? How'd you take it and not go... crazy?
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Yeah, that's a little tricky... But, doable. Surround yourself with good people and make sure to take care of yourself. A little laughter really goes a long way. Or stupid movie nights with themed snacks, even just a walk or someone to silently sit on the floor with you until you feel like the bottom isn't falling out from under you anymore is pretty rad. [ You'll be okay, I know you will. You've done this before. It's like riding a bike after getting amnesia. Muscle memory. That all rests on the tip of her tongue, but she has no interest in bursting that bubble just yet. She'd rather not make him run away from her or never speak to her again. ]
Your first few events will be the hardest, and then you'll fall into the rhythm with everyone else. Every now and then, there'll be a doozy, but hey - you're never alone in the post-event whiplash when it's a bad one.
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Never been all that great at leanin' on people, but you're not the first person suggestin' I make some friends.
[ He slows to a stop, arms crossing, uncertain about moving ahead to a public place before asking his next question. ]
What kinda things can I expect? From these events?
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[ The sigh that escapes is barely audible, unable to hold it back before it slips out. If this had been the Blake she'd known, she wouldn't have bothered tbh. And maybe one day, they'd get there. It would take time. ] Some events are fun, but most aren't. They're things from our own worlds or it's something involving the mirrors - at which point it's usually a bloodbath. I'd like to say it gets easier after your first event-related Wonderland death, but I've always sucked at lying to newbies.
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No, think I'd— [ A breath shudders slightly out as a sigh and he gestures that it's okay for them to move ahead. ] Don't get me wrong, I appreciate everything you're sayin' here. Much rather have the truth, trust me.
Why don't you tell me a little 'bout you? Is that—? D'you mind? It's not like I'm not appreciative, but...
[ John's a bit worried about hitting a point where he can't take anything else in — a bit worried about missing something important buried in all the little details. ]
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The request for information on herself is simple enough, considering she was expecting to have to replay the getting to know you game, even if this version was missing a lesson the birds and the bees to break the ice. ]
Sure, no - I get it. Name's Darcy Lewis, intern of Dr. Jane Foster who's an Astrophysicist and also my boss back home. I'm here with a bunch of other people from my world as well that I'm sure you'll have the pleasure of meeting at some point and that's a whole 'nother thing I don't wanna get into right now. Basics... back to basics... [ She leads them into the coffee shop, guiding him towards the counter as she slips behind it seamlessly. ] I was a Poli-Sci major before I needed six credits and apparently changed my whole life plan, I've tased a God and helped prevent dark elf asshats from trying to plunge the world into eternal darkness... And like I've said, I've been here just over three years, I've died officially twice, I've killed a mirror, I have two dogs that I inherited sort of, I no longer like long walks on the beach, and I have the ability to talk a lot.
[ And while she was talking, she'd already started preparing two orders of coffee including what he used to drink whenever he was here. She stops giving a sheepish smile before quietly hiding the half prepared drink. ] And I totally forgot to ask what you wanted. Sorry, kinda on autopilot. Happens when I talk.
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Uhm, whatever you've got goin' there's fine.
[ Odds are pretty good she already knows what he likes. ]
What d'you mean, "died officially twice?" [ Blake's eyebrows knit together and he watches her work as curiosity gnaws gently at him. He has so many questions, but he can't ask them all at once — not if he wants to sleep tonight. ] There such a thing as dyin' unofficially?
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[ She continues the drink she'd pushed off, not bothering to change it up from he used to have because too late. Especially with the death talk. ]
When you "officially" die-- [ And she's gonna make one of those air quotes with the steamer cup for emphasis. ] --You're down for a certain number of days. Like, first death - one day. Second death, two days, and on and on. Until you hit five, then who knows. [ Her voice trails off at that as she places the mug in front of him and finishes up her own. ] This place is weird. Just when you think you've got something figured out, they throw a wrench into it.
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That's... a lot. All this is a lot.
[ And he's wishing the shock would just go away, but try as he might, his brain doesn't want to process all of this, normalize all of this. ]
Dunno how I did last time, but I don't think I'm doin' very well this time. Sounds like I owe you at least one. Maybe more, if what you've been sayin' is any indication.
I just— What do I even say?
[ Existential crisis, here he comes. ]
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Alright, she was still a people person and to be fair, the last time they'd been alone together in the back room it had been her turn for an existential crisis. Turnabout was fair play.
Settling on the couch in the middle of the big room, she sets the can of whipped cream on the table in front of her, giving him a chance to peace if he really wanted to and have his moment in absolute privacy.
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At this point, is it wrong that I'm thinkin' I wished this whipped cream was alcoholic?
[ He's been trying to keep it light, but John's already wondering if he wouldn't feel better with half a dozen shots of alcohol plying his addled brain. ]
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[ Getting up from her spot on the couch, she slips out of the back room for a moment so she can hit up the closet. It takes a few tries, but she eventually is successful, returning with alcoholic whipped cream. She hands the cold can over to him before turning to set the failed attempts on the counter. There's a carton of whipping cream, a container of ice cream, a small whip, and plushie cat with an ice cream cone. Needless to say, she'd been distracted when she'd been pulling everything out. ]
I'm sure there's a way to make it from scratch, but that's a whole lotta effort right now. [ Her brain can't do it. Maybe another time. ]
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[ And now he gets to gingerly slurp up the whipped cream he'd already put on his drink. It's tricky, but he mostly manages to keep it off his nose before adding a second helping, this time with the alcoholic whipped cream. ]
You sure know how to make a guy feel welcome. Dunno what I woulda done otherwise, but— [ He nods, impressed, a bit moved, somewhat gobsmacked by this whole experience. ] You know me well.
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Knowing it's just gonna happen again when she drinks, she doesn't bother wiping away at it right away. Instead, she offers him a warm smile, whipped cream covered nose and all. ]
You'd have figured this place out. You're smart and pretty resilient. And yeah, I do, but I know how overwhelming it can be for people to know you and have memories of you with you not having a clue about them. [ This definitely isn't the first time she'd dealt with a returning resident. Hell, she should make up a separate pamphlet for it. ]