psalmed: (happy)
[personal profile] psalmed
I do hope everyone is returning quickly back to their normal state. It seems I have found something quite soothing for my own self.

[She hopes Wonderland is ready for a fashion show because she is about to give them one. The feed turns from Lia's face to her rooms, in particular a little circle of furniture that has made a makeshift pin. Inside the pin are animals. To be precise, a monkey, a piglet, and two puppies all romping together.

And why shouldn't they be? They are wearing fabulous outfits! The monkey is the most elaborate since it is about baby sized. Puppy One and Puppy Two fare a bit better, with adorable matching hats that they are trying to pull off but it's the piglet who sports the most elaborate head wear.

Lia wiggles her fingers and puts down a few more tiny scones and tiny cups of tea, which are consumed, and she's smiling pleasantly.]


They are lovely, are they not? Would anyone like to bring any pets over for a bit of a play date?

[She's not including she kidnapped these pets. Instead she sits down in a fluffing of human-sized skirts as the feed ends.]
anomaliiiiies: (065)
[personal profile] anomaliiiiies
[The first thing one sees is Jane's face, her mouth pursed, as she sets her little phone up to record, then walking away to a whiteboard, as pure as snow, before picking up a dry erase marker. Glancing over her shoulder, Jane smiles at the camera.]

So, hello, Wonderland, I'm Doctor Jane Foster. I'm an astrophysicist with training in particle physics. You've probably seen me outside at night studying the stars or in the library. I'm working on a map of the stars and attempting to figure out for certain if this place is really a pocket universe or else a shared illusion. I'm edging more to the pocket universe theory since it's a bit simpler, and more probable. But it could also be a shared point in all the multiple worlds we're from. That's a really interesting idea that somehow there is something in Wonderland's makeup that makes it a commonality to all worlds. [she lapses into science babble, drawing a lot of elegant equations in neat handwriting on the board, the marker squeaking, before she pulls herself back together to speak at the device still recording]

Okay, so my question is, has anyone else wondered about how the various worlds match up even with the differing time-points from each world? And of so, will anyone be interested in a group to discuss findings? I'm also interested in any research or observations on hos this place works, and not just depending on the library for that. I like first person observations, please and thank you.

[Jane leans over to click off the broadcast with a smile of SCIENCE]

[ooc: I will be slow with replies until this afternoon]

[video]

Jun. 28th, 2014 09:48 pm
scorchedlily: (Default)
[personal profile] scorchedlily
[Her normally warm strawberry-blonde hair is now lacking in the strawberry component, and Milady's usually dramatic gowns in rich, jewel hues are now the washed-out pastels commonly favoured by the French Queen's ladies, and the twittering girls of the English court.

Unimpressed.]


I've a surfeit of these, as no doubt most of you have, judging by what I can hear… [She holds aloft an Artois hound, utterly adorable and roly-poly.] But what's more concerning is the sudden influx of… drabness. I cannot be the only one subjected to an excess of colour-leaching.
psalmed: (not a good surprise)
[personal profile] psalmed
[You were clearly bored of dresses, Wonderland, because Lia for a change is in a man's shirt and waistcoat. She might not be wearing pants, but it's at least long enough to cover anything scandalous and, in fact, is higher-cut than the usual fare. Decent, right? She is cross-legged on what looks like her bed, a sword resting on her thighs.]

It has come to my attention that there has been a war within my country. Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité, so they say. So they changed from my country.

[Oops. Someone learned about the French Revolution and she doesn't look happy about it.]

No one here was responsible and I beg your forgiveness. Your indulgence, if you will. Why would he- would anyone turn against King and country so readily? Would judge everyone guilty no matter their responsibility, would murder babes in their mothers arms, would parade a head around in the streets of our beloved Paris.

[Yep, definitely bitter. But the graceful hands which have clenched on her thighs relax, and when she looks up again she's calm. Serene, even.]

I would very much like to practice today. Blades or with fists. It appears I am in need of something to soothe my thoughts.

[Then, almost as an afterthought because she is reaching for the feed.]

Does anyone know the story of King Arthur? It seems it has lasted for centuries. That it has
transcended worlds. It was always one of my little brother's favorites.
stagstrong: (I MAD)
[personal profile] stagstrong
[Robert was staring at the ocean. It seemed an odd place to put an ocean, given he had only just been at the Trident, which was not far from the ocean, but not nearly so close to it as he stood now. But he took no special joy in the salty sea breeze. He'd felt it so many times at Storm's End and now it held nothing for him but a bitter reminder of a wreck along the rocks. Slowly he paced along the beach, but had to hobble because his leg had been cut and was bleeding still through his bandages. His chest had still not fully healed from the wound he took before the battle of Stony Sept and somehow the ocean seemed to only aggravate it more. He should be racing to King's Landing, not standing alone at a beach in the darkening evening. He stepped on strange rock on the ground and heard it crunch. At this point, the video feed begins.]

Seven hells, but where did the army get to?

[Suddenly and without warning, Robert begins to bellow. His voice is loud. It has to be loud, because his voice is that of a battle commander and one that must be heard over the chaos of battle and to the furthest off soldier. Magnified through the device at his feet, it's almost obnoxiously loud.]

JON! JON ARRYN!? GODS DAMMIT, WHERE ARE YOU!?

[No reply comes. Not from the beach, anyway. So he picks up his warhammer, tightens his grip on his shield, and prepares to march away from the ocean.

Later, once he's found his way to the mansion, he'll be exploring the grounds and can be found wherever seems most likely.]
wolfwild: (ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ)
[personal profile] wolfwild
...Benjen? [ when lyanna stark pushes herself into a sitting position a few twists and turns away from the maze's centre, her instinct is to call for one of her brothers: the youngest, first, and with a lilt of concern. with a groan, she brushes detritus off her palms and straightens her skirts (simple; in the northern style). and she tries to figure out why she might have been preparing her palfrey to ride in one moment, and sitting in dirt the next.

not that she minded the dirt -- not really. but she did mind the conspicuous absence of her kin. panic mounts: ]
Brandon? Ned?

[ she scrambles to her feet and finds the strange small brick only a few feet away. lyanna picks it up and can now be seen peering suspiciously at its every angle. ] You're a funny thing. [ she mutters, tapping it gently and fingering (but not pressing) the buttons. but then she holds it loosely in her fist and raises her voice. ] By all the named gods and the unnamed gods -- Brandon Stark! If this is some trick or a mummer's game, I will have your hide. And without it, you can hardly hope to woo any pretty --

[ she stops abruptly because the brick chirrups like some odd precise bird. surprise catches the breath in her throat and she's forced to ask -- staring straight at the device: ] ...Are you alive, little brick?

[ grab her attention on the funny little brick-bird or else find her wandering the maze and the gardens. ]
psalmed: (notanna)
[personal profile] psalmed
[Are you bored of seeing floofy dresses yet? Because at first the feed is of nothing but a mountain of skirts. Finally it's adjusted to Lia, and a teacup, and it's clear there's been some thought in presentation. Her hair is styled, the dress is the height of fashion (of two hundred and something years ago) to the point of impracticality.]

So many people are posing such fascinating questions. I would ask one of my own. Would you want to know your future? If you could peer into the next years of your life, and the lives of those you love, would you wish to see what time will bring, even if you could not change it?

And then, if you knew...would you accept it as the will of God? Of fate?

[There's a sadness there, lingering behind the polite and pretty face. Fingers are tangled in the beads of a rosary around her neck as she considers her next words, and at last she smiles and ducks her head.]

I still find myself lacking for a partner in sword practices. I would very much like to encourage anyone who wishes to learn or only wishes to stay active to get into contact with me. I would be happy to teach a beginner to defend their self and virtue, as I would be happy for someone to perhaps teach me new endeavors.

That failing, I fear I shall have to invite a few of you for tea.

[Quite the threat, there, and at least some mischievous spark has returned to her face as she shuts off the feed.]
assembles: talking, earnest, determined, costume (let's be a team)
[personal profile] assembles
[When the video feed starts up, it shows a man seated at a desk in a rather nondescript room. Not much can be seen behind him beyond a bed and closet. Much more noteworthy is his face, which has a few bruises and a line of stitches extending outward from the corner of his mouth.

Despite that, he has a bright, open look on his face, though the fact that he's sitting up straight and looking head-on at his phone's camera makes it clear that he means business.]


So... had a few days to take everything in, read what information I could find. It's been helpful, it really has. [A lot of the work and investigation had already been done for him, though that hasn't prevented Steve from doing his own exploration.]

Just a few questions, if anyone can help. [And so far, most everyone has been helpful.] I can only assume there's some escape effort that's been put together here. A group of like-minded people, working together to get everyone home. I'd like to be a part of that. [It might seem overly transparent to ask about something like that over a network like this, but Steve has no interest in secrecy, especially not after everything that he's been through.]

Secondly, I've heard a lot about people being from different worlds. I'm trying to get an idea of how many we're dealing with. [He knows about Asgard and has heard vaguely of the Nine Realms, but beyond that he's clueless. He needs to determine the scope of this operation.]

Oh, and the name's Steve Rogers. I'll do whatever I can to get us all out of here. [It's meant mainly as a test to see if anyone here is going to recognize him, or if he actually has some manner of anonymity in this place.

With that said, he offers a small smile and then ends the feed.]
ausdauer: (pic#7688728)
[personal profile] ausdauer
[She set there staring at the device, her eyes stared down at it with disdain. Her fingers move fluidly, moving some of the items out of the way to experiment. She accidentally turned the video on and stared even harder at it, noticing the blinking light in the corner.]

Genius, really.

[She whispers to herself.]
I need to get home, I can't stay here.

I just can't.

[Annie shook the device a little, when nothing happened she just sighed staring down at it again. She was angry, provoked that something or someone was keeping her captive. Go ahead, poke her one more time.]
digophelia: (fucking brian is coming)
[personal profile] digophelia
[Alice normally isn't one for socializing, but here she is, sitting here with her vorpal blade that she quietly keeps her fingers on the handle to keep the blade upright. Only a few times she lets her anger and annoyance surface by viciously stabbing the table. But for once, she can't particularly keep her silence.]

So, that's how it is, then? I suppose the lot of you can't comprehend the level of at least attempting to keep Wonderland clean. It may not be my Wonderland, but it is still very much Wonderland! And as it stands, it's very dear to me. Honestly! I would have hoped with guests here that at the very least you could behave yourselves.

And not leave such a mess. Blood stains, after all, you certainly can't wash it out. What a mess.

[There's more to it than that, but hey, guys, not cool. Not. Cool.]

I suppose it wouldn't be too much to ask that some of you could keep your heads together and certainly not be making messes in the near future? Or is that too much to ask from the Alice with eyes? It's the only thing I can ask. Just be sure to avoid informing me that "we're all mad here". I know that plenty.
psalmed: (sword)
[personal profile] psalmed
With the happenings of late, it feels callous to pose a question. I have been informed there are no church services at present.

[But? However? A frown momentarily crosses her face, but she plows ahead anyway. The rosary beads are missing from around her neck and are instead in her hands, rolling loosely over the tops of her fingers. It's only a moment before the polite smile is back on her lips.]

Women should not speak of religion, or of God. Even so, I find myself in the position of wondering at the extend of my isolation. Might I ask if there is a priest in house or at least someone qualified to hear confession? Perhaps a chapel where one might find solitude? I have...much for which I wish to atone and there is no moment like the present.

[Oops. Downer. She seems to realize this and waves her hand as though to dismiss that question and pose another.]

What does a person do with their free time in this place? I had hoped to perhaps play cards or have sword practice. Perhaps tea?

[It is said mostly to herself and the feed shuts off.]
psalmed: (unimpressed)
[personal profile] psalmed
[The feed opens to the lower half of a very confused face. A collarbone, decorated with the beads of a rosary around her neck, is what is mostly in focus. It takes a few moments for the view to shift from chest to the rest of a woman's puzzled face, which soon has a very cordial smile on it.]

To anyone who might me listening, I beg your forgiveness for this intrusion. My name is Lia de Beaumont and I am a Knight of France and a Lady to Her Majesty. It seems I have wandered from my path and I do not know which way I might again find civilization. This place is so very like Versailles and yet...it is not, is it?

[Her voice is soft, questioning, and she lowers her head and shuts her eyes for a moment. Unfortunately a moment is all it takes as a wave crashes in and takes her out at the knees. It wouldn't have done much, but as the feed soon reveals after it is done flying through the air and landing on the sand, Lia is wearing an impractically giant dress. The wet fabric clings to her legs and she drops, easily dragged into the water with a slight yell. It's a matter of a full minute before she claws her way out of the surf, breathing hard.]

The help would be...most appreciated.

[And then the feed ends, because what is a lady without thanking someone after putting on such a display? If anyone is to come across her, she will be sitting on the beach in a chair, wringing water out of her skirts and trying to get the sand off.]

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