digiorno: icon by me! art credit? (♛ searching the land)
[personal profile] digiorno
Due moltiplicato per due fa 4. 4 moltiplicato per 4 fa sedici. Sedici è due moltiplicato per due moltiplicato per due, quadrato 4, come il gioco.

[This is what he sends while he's still in his room, still contemplating where he is, and why, if there is a why. Sometimes there isn't, and he knows that; sometimes people attack you for no reason, simply because you're in a position of power, even if they don't have an issue with you specifically. This is what he's learning. It's not paranoia if you're right.]

[The message will draw appropriate attention if it's there to be drawn. If it's not, as he suspects, it'll pass unnoticed or at least ignored by most people and will draw out those who speak Italian or have short tempers or both.]

[He can't stay here forever, of course, so after about half an hour he steps out of his room and into the hall. He's an obvious new arrival, since he's inspecting the mansion with extreme and unfamiliar care, but he doesn't quite seem afraid. Curious, yes, annoyed, definitely, but afraid, no. He moves with the quiet grace he's accustomed to, the only real acquiescence to the situation a gentle frown and a slightly pinched brow.]

[He explores everywhere, and thoroughly, so it takes awhile; even so, he spends extra time in some places. The library fascinates him in the way that only a total nerd can be fascinated by an apparently infinite library, but he manages to tear himself away after only forty-five minutes cradling a tome on rainforest insects that never existed on Earth and never will. The kitchen holds him a little bit longer, because at first he's delighted by the plenty offered by the cupboards, and then he's terrified (again, always) at letting someone else control what and when he eats. He's all tense what-ifs until he gets to the ballroom, where he stays for a little while simply because it's pretty, and pretty things soothe him.]

[It's not until he gets past the gardens into the forest that the switch flips, quite neatly, from frustration and uncertainty to anger. The reason is fairly predictable. All the same, he looks at most mildly bothered, leaning one hand on the nearest tree trunk when the video switches on.]


If anyone has a moment and it's not too much trouble, I'd appreciate if you could tell me what the hell is wrong with this forest. There's not a thing in here but the trees.

[A beat.]

Obviously I have a laundry list of other questions, but really.


( ooc ; feel free to catch him anywhere in the mansion or on the grounds for the action portion! )

video;

Jun. 6th, 2016 12:47 pm
walkingheroin: (anangrym0)
[personal profile] walkingheroin
Now, I get what you were going for here, but I must say, it’s just not working for me at all. Where’s the music? The entertainment? The escapism? Most people go to a bar to get away from their problems and the mediocrity of their lives, not to be surrounded by another place as equally drab and boring!

[Lucifer is clearly at the bar, and while it’s likely quite lovely and fine, this is The Devil we’re talking about. He’s not satisfied with much that he doesn’t do himself.]

This won’t do at all! Do you even have anyone hooking up in this bar or does everyone walk back to their rooms sad, alone and feeling sorry for themselves? It’s pathetic, really.

[He suddenly appears as if he’s had a revelation of sorts, though honestly he probably started this knowing exactly where he was taking it.]

Never fear, citizens of Wonderland. I’ll make sure you’re all able to partake in some real debauchery very soon.
assembles: (trying to keyword while tired)
[personal profile] assembles
[ The feed snaps on, and the frame is on the crowded side. In the foreground Steve and Wanda are seated, arranged on a couch in one of the mansion’s tea rooms, while Natasha stands behind them, leaning against the wall near the door. Steve has his phone tilted so that all of three them are visible, Wanda’s arm linked with his.

Steve’s in civilian wear, his expression composed and collected. He isn’t here to give out orders or make any speeches, though. ]


So it looks like Wonderland sent all three of us home at once. Sorry about that. [ As if they had any control over it. ] But we’re back now and more or less in one piece. [ Which isn’t the full story at all, but that isn’t something that needs to be shared with all of Wonderland.

Natasha pushes away from the wall at this and moves closer into the frame of the video, leaning on the back of the couch over Steve’s shoulder, expression mild. ]
I don’t know if any others of us were sent home recently, but if so, letting us know would be greatly appreciated.

[ Her lips quirk briefly. ] Either way, I think some of us will need to be assembling for a SitRep soon regardless. But we wanted to let you know we were back to keep people from worrying.

[ Steve glances over his shoulder at Natasha, nods, and then returns to looking at his phone. ] Let us know if we’re needed anywhere.

[ With that, the feed cuts. ]


Action option for Steve )

Action option for Natasha )

Action option for Wanda )
morethanasidekick: (Fae Plague)
[personal profile] morethanasidekick
[As the video starts to play, the person on screen looks like they've come about as close to the brink of death as anyone can manage and still come back from it. Her dark hair is pulled back from her ghostly white face and pale blue eyes that are normally accentuated with black eye makeup, appear to be lined with blood. Her tongue flickers out over dry, cracked lips and the picture is shaky, as if the person holding the camera has unsteady hands.]

Aren't you supposed to take the red pill before you wake up in bizarro land? [The woman trying to inject as much vibrancy as she can manage into her voice, despite the obvious struggle to do so.]

There should at least be food. Like, nachos. Why don't any of my kidnappings ever come with nachos?

[The shake of the camera worsens as she pulls one hand away, trying to rub away the evidence of what had happened before she woke up here.]

As comfortable as this floor is... if somebody could point me in the direction of food? [Aware of how she looks, her hand vaguely gestures to her face.] It's okay. It was just a minor case of Fae plague. A burger or six and I'll be good to go.
startingpoint: (☕83)
[personal profile] startingpoint
( spoiler warning for Blindspot season finale!)

[ The device in his hand is familiar enough. Not exactly like his phone from home, but close enough. Everything about being here is highly suspicious, and he does wonder for a moment if he had more to drink than he'd realized. But arresting Jane was real. That happened. Taylor is dead by his father's hand. He can't escape any of those truths.

But given everything that's transpired in the last twenty-four hours, this amounts to an actual kidnapping in his mind, and he's not sure who the hell would have brought them here, and why. He'd suspect Jane of orchestrating this somehow, especially since she's nowhere to be found, but even if she played a part, she wouldn't be acting alone. ]


I'm Kurt Weller with the FBI. [ Which...is probably redundant. Whoever took him knows exactly who he is. He's here for a reason, he's sure. All the lies - someone's trying to ruin his life, destroy him, his team, his family. But he's been given free reign, seemingly, and a device to communicate with people. None of it makes sense, and making he's just playing into their hands, but for now, this is all he's got. ] I don't know what you think you're gonna gain from bringing me here. [ He's concerned for his team, his family, but for the moment they're not here at least and he has to believe they're safer than he is. ] If you hurt my team or my family, I'll come for you. I won't hesitate. So start talking, tell me exactly where I am and why I'm here.

[ He thinks for a moment about Jane. He doesn't trust her at all, he doesn't know how dangerous she is, and he's tempted to warn anyone else who might be listening and want to escape this place as much as he does. But he needs more of the facts from her, he can't just spout out their business to a network of people he can't see, and certainly trusts even less than Jane. No. This is between them, no one else. ]

And for anyone listening who's trapped and needs help, come find me.

[ He's in the gardens, the mansion clearly seen behind him. If anyone is even listening out there. Probably just his captor(s), having a laugh at his expense. ]
readytocomply: <user name=easystreet> (82)
[personal profile] readytocomply
[It had been the right thing to do. For everyone. He wasn't safe, couldn't trust himself, and while he hadn't wanted to do it, it had been the only choice. But he's been in and out of cryostasis enough to know when coming out this time isn't the same. It's not just the breeze on his skin causing his too-long hair to dance across his forehead, or the sweet, dry smell of fruit trees. No, it's the way he wakes up. Slow, naturally, like he'd slept the whole night through, and there's nothing normal about that.

The communication device his fingers are curled around doesn't bother him. Bucky's used to not remembering things, but the stalls and the vendors with their strange shapeless masks who stand nearby do. He walks past one, their face completely smooth, as featureless as a blank wall, and his breath catches in his throat, freezing him in place. There's a million explanations going through his mind and none of them make any sense except one and he doesn't want to think about that.

It takes a vender getting too close before he snaps out of it long enough to go through the motions. Better clothes, sweats and a white tank aren't cutting it, and a relatively safe place to hide so he can figure things out, grabbing a pamphlet on the way.

Bucky's face is half-hidden when the feed starts, voice low, and he wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't necessary. He was on shaky ground and he needed something to steady him.]


Name's Bucky. I'm looking for someone. Steve Rogers.

[It's risky to put it out there like that. He doesn't know these people and he's been alive long enough to know that even the prettiest people with the brightest smiles can be hiding the worst lies and secrets. But he needs to find someone he remembers. Everything is muddled and this place looks like something his mind has made up.]

He might go by Captain America.

[Just in case he's alone in Wonderland, he adds a little more.]

If someone could tell me what the hell's going on here, I'd appreciate it.

[There's a brief pause. He considers mentioning the obvious physical difference that would set him apart, but they'll figure it out when they see him.]

I'll be on the first floor, entrance hall, if anyone wants to talk in person. This way's fine, too.

[ooc: spoilers for civil war possible in this post; if anyone doesn't want them, please let me know.]
thinblueline: ([±] what's that?)
[personal profile] thinblueline
Wonderland.

[ A nod in greeting, no more or less warm than usual (as usual happens to be uncommon in this case). His last public address had been in a prior year — an enthusiastic explanation of baseball — and in the time since, nothing has changed, not actually changed. ]

Name's John. Ah, Blake to most of you, but Robin John Blake if we're bein' proper. I've been here for— [ A puff of air, a shake of his head. He's still twenty-nine, hasn't aged a day since his arrival, but there's no staving off the way turmoil has done what time cannot. ] Well, I can't accurately say, but it's been years. Lifetimes in some cases — always enjoyed those kinda events — but on actual days I can count as bein' here, it's over three years.

I don't— [ A pause. He was once personable — trained to be — but so much of that has worn down to this personality of half-measure, a ghost of what once was. ] Tryin' to explain, so bear with me, but I don't think... I don't think I'm goin' home. [ He breathes in, lets it out slowly. ] And that's what I want, so I'm okay with it.

Some part of me is always gonna be here. Mean that in the most technical sense, 'cause this place has taken from me — memories and who knows what else. Figure even if I go home-go home it's gonna be true, that I'm still gonna be here.

So... that's my big announcement. I'm here to stay. By any means necessary, I think. [ His smile is rueful. ] Groundbreakin', I know; a blip of Wonderland's vast radar screen. But it also gives me an opportunity to say I'm retirin' too. From my life of crime fightin'. Won't make much of a diff'rence here 'cause that's not really what I do, but it'll make a diff'rence in me, I think.

[ Blake shrugs, rubs at the small amount of stubble that's shadowing his chin. ]

Anyway, if anyone wants to celebrate or whatever, I'll be 'round the bar in a bit.



[[ OOC: Action prompt can be used anywhere, not just at the bar. Let me know if you need a starter by PMing this journal or hitting me up on plurk @blakeroo. ]]

⎊ [Video]

May. 1st, 2016 08:07 am
narcissistictendencies: (You're on the list?)
[personal profile] narcissistictendencies
[The feed opens to Tony's form from about the waist up. His sleeves are rolled up and his left arm is covered in burns that look to be about a week old. He's holding a strange device about eight inches long. It's encased entirely in a shell and seems to have a small domed sensor on top.]

I just wanted to say, if you start seeing these around, it's not a tiny alien invasion, they're sensors. I'm setting them around key locations in the hopes of finding a way to predict these event things. In light of the most recent catastrophe, I think it's only a reasonable step towards surviving something like that again. There has to be something preceding these things, right? Like a low-pressure system before a storm. We get a warning, sure. Sometimes, anyway? Maybe, if we can figure out what causes them or where they're coming from, we can delay or stop them?

[It's... all he's got, okay? He hates feeling like he isn't in control and he hates that people die because of it, even more.]

I'm... [He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, the beginnings of a sleepless headache coming on.] officially out of retirement. Hold the "I told you so"s. You know who you are.

audio/text

Apr. 26th, 2016 02:50 pm
henrydaniel: (; this sounds like bullshit)
[personal profile] henrydaniel
Hey, Wonderland. Henry Mills here. And I wanted to keep a running tally of all the monsters or villains that you know of from your world that could come here. And then note whether or not they have been here.

I'll need people's help since I've only been here a year and a half, and I'm not sure what was here before me. So, I'll go start:

  • Ice queens (but only evil ones) - One named Ingrid was here but left.
  • Dark One (any form)
  • Ogres
  • Peter Pan - he was here and left a while ago
  • Curses (any type, usually there are a lot of clouds that build up before hand)
  • Poison apples/spindles/pointy things
  • Dragons (but not all of them are bad so you have to be careful)
  • Cruella de Vil
  • Zelena (she's here. Hi, Zelena. Sorry you're on this list.)
  • Flying monkeys (but they're actually people so...I'm not sure what to do about that?)
  • King Arthur
  • Trolls
  • Mermaids (but NOT Ariel.)


  • There's probably more, anyone from home can add to this. But yeah, it just might be good to know what to be aware of?
    araneidal: art by phil noto. (⧗ down; resting)
    [personal profile] araneidal
    [ Natasha's sitting at a table with a stack of black rectangular objects about the size of a palm. She holds up one close to the camera. ]

    These are emergency radios in case our network goes down. They come with an inbuilt tracker [ a small hiss ] and three different types of lockpicks, which work for every door in the mansion assuming they haven't been altered. The button here [ she turns it over to demonstrate ] is a torch. No battery needed.

    [ She gives it a quick shake, and the torch shines on the table. ]

    If you want one, I'll be in the dining room.
    widows_kiss: serious, curious, action (A1 048)
    [personal profile] widows_kiss
    [ Video ]
      [ Natasha shows up on the Network early in the day. Her hair is already tousled and she's looking a little out of breath, but she's currently holed up somewhere quiet to try and get in touch with the others - or anyone else who is out there at the moment, because so far everything's been alarmingly quiet other than the monsters roaming the mansion and the occasional scuffle she's come across and lent a hand in. Or just instigated herself, when the odds looked favorable. ]

      Alright, safe spots are all well and good, but these things have to be coming from somewhere and there seems to be more of them by the minute. Anyone have any brilliant ideas on how we might slow down their numbers or maybe keep them stuck to certain floors?

      Also, any Avengers out there? I could really use a bit of backup. I might have gotten a little bit more attention than I wanted to. [ Oops? ]

    [ Action ]
      [ Natasha's not content to remain stationary for any length of time. For the duration of the event she keeps moving, constantly switching between defensive and offensive maneuvers. She finds and coordinates with teammates and friends and, hell, even strangers whenever she comes across them, falling seamlessly in and out of battle and carving her way through what monsters she can with a cold, determined precision.

      She doesn't have a gas mask, persay, but there is a filter that looks like it was made specifically to match her tac suit often fixed over her mouth and nose, designed to protect from harmful gases, so she figures this will serve the same purpose. She a pair of pistols and a large supply of ammo on her, as well as her stingers and an alarming amount of knives tucked away on her person - including one the size of a small machete that she doesn't hesitate to use when there's a need.

      Should anyone find themselves in trouble, she's quick to lend aid, or fall in at their backs to join in the fray until the threat is taken care of. Feel free to encounter her anywhere during the span of the event. ]
    saved: (073)
    [personal profile] saved
    [ooc: Set up throughout the event if anyone for anyone who might be in trouble or need some help from spider-man. You can either contact him on the network or just have your character in trouble since he's running around trying to save people. :) Also, if you're just out and about and want to be surprised by the dude in spandex on the ceiling that's an option too.]

    [This is voice primarily because Peter's finally put the suit back on, and he doubts seeing a masked face on the screen is really going to be helpful right now. He arrived with it on under his clothes with the mask in his backpack, but with so many other people who had powers, it didn't feel necessary to wear it. Now the whole world's going to hell, and it's scary, and he's always felt more capable (and confident) when he's wearing the suit (put it on, the mask. it's going to make you strong). Over the front of the mask, there's a gas mask. It's Spider-man with a gas mask.

    It's a thing that's happening.]


    If anybody's stuck somewhere or you're getting overwhelmed and need help, let me know. I can help you get out. I can keep you safe. Trap the Infected. I've got powerful sticky stuff.[-- wow. that was- wow. Peter facepalms, groans low (definitely not turning red right now), and then seems to remember he's doing a voice post right now. Apparently the suit's snarky confidence only works in person.]

    Webbing. Specifically. It's strong. It'll trap them. I'm also going to create like survival packs in those, leave them around with stuff like water and food in them. So uh, yeah. Stay safe, ask for help, and wear a gas mask like we were told. It's very stylish in the May-Save-Your-Life way.

    Read more... )

    video;

    Apr. 5th, 2016 11:11 pm
    sheriffing: commission; please do not use (🌟 147)
    [personal profile] sheriffing
    Alright, how many of us got roped into taking care of a cat?

    [Us, because there's a sweet little kitten climbing up her arm. Black fur, bright eyes, and an obvious talent for clinging to her new owner. The cat seemed familiar in a way Emma couldn't walk away from. Maybe it was because she needed a home, maybe it was because she's clearly a troublemaker covered in fluff.

    Only time will tell whether or not it was a good idea. She's still wondering how Henry's dog will respond to her, and whether or not this is going to be the disaster Emma thinks it could be.

    The sad eyes got to her; the truth is, they work every time.]


    And what did you name it?

    video;

    Apr. 4th, 2016 02:08 pm
    agentxthirteen: (6: how many hit?)
    [personal profile] agentxthirteen
    A couple months ago, I suggested getting some self-defense lessons going. We won't always have weapons with us when Wonderland transports us someplace, and God knows we're often at a disadvantage. So I thought we could learn how to defend ourselves with or without weapons. But events came and went, it got delayed, and then to top it off- Well. It's done now.

    [ She pans the camera around to show a comfortable large room. Mats are on the floor, weapons are on the wall. Everything is light and cheerful. No blood yet, either. ]

    I've already talked to some of you about classes. Let me know if you're still interested. I've got sign-up sheets by the door for anyone else who wants to teach or take private lessons, that sort of thing.

    So swing by or, if you can't, let me know if you're interested in lessons.

    Private messages to John Blake, Evelyn O'Connell, Faith Lehane, Natasha Romanoff (616), Mystique, Chuck Hansen, Victor Frankenstein, and Philip )
    mindbend: (xxxi)
    [personal profile] mindbend
    So many feelings, so much more trouble than they're worth.

    [It's bad enough to have to feel them to their full effect, to have to deal with her own, but to be able to sense and hear and see what goes on inside the heads and hearts of others, to have emotions beating down on her from all sides-- it's too much, too much on any normal day and certainly too much more, with everything amplified, everything brighter and louder and so much more than it should be.

    And so Wanda has turned her own off, an attempt at gaining peace of mind, and in a way, it's-- incredibly freeing.]


    It is so much quieter with them gone. No more worries, no more pain. No fear, no grief, no hysterics.

    [She's seen the messages that have come through on the network over the weekend, some excited, some distressed, but all seemingly exhausting in their own right.]

    Take advantage while you can. This will not last forever, but for a time, you can save yourselves the trouble. Still, for those who have chosen to hold onto their emotions regardless, I cannot help but be curious. Why?

    [The question is honest, rather than condescending: inquiring minds want to know.]
    courtintrigue: (I could have had them both)
    [personal profile] courtintrigue
    [action]

    [From the Korcari Wilds to the gilded corridors of Orlesian palaces to the mysterious hallways of this very mansion, observation has been key. There are few betters ways for Morrigan to learn, and learn she must.

    As a black cat with watchful golden eyes, she spends an entire afternoon studying anyone who uses the network in the mansion's more public areas, particularly the gardens, the dining room, and the library. Those who seem to be moving from one place to another with a very specific destination in mind also earn her attention. The cat shows no fear, moving in close when the need arises, but attempts to touch her are met with evasive maneuvers.]



    [voice]

    [Later, in the evening, she resorts to privately using the network herself, her observation paying off to some small degree. Without introduction or pointless small talk, she launches directly into what currently weighs on her mind.]

    I am led to believe that leaving this place by choice is unlikely. I would speak to anyone who has attempted it. Or perhaps those who know someone who has disappeared. Is there a pattern that has been pieced together?


    (ooc: I'll be pretty steady with tags this afternoon/tonight but then I'll be unusually slow for about a week. If that's okay with you, tag away!)
    heroica: (all the broken chords and unnamed cries)
    [personal profile] heroica
    -land's influence on you. [ Good morning from the tired and faintly exasperated countenance of Robyn, who hastily replaces a wayward braid behind her ear before actually attending to the broadcast. She smiles wearily, clearing her throat before addressing the mansion. ]

    Hello, Wonderland. In case we've yet to meet, my name is Robyn Cousland of the Gr- [ She cuts off momentarily to glance away, frowning, and speaks to someone or something off-camera. ] Stop. Sit.

    [ There's a low whine, but she returns to the device with a satisfied, short sigh. ]

    When I arrived, I... found, if it can be called that, a mabari - a Ferelden hound - in the wardrobe of my room. He isn't nearly as well-behaved as my own, unfortunately; he seems much younger, though I've just been thinking it might be because of the way that this place seems to affect us all. Though, luckily, we haven't all been taking little things from other people and hiding them away.

    [ TALKING ABOUT YOU, OREN THE DOG. ]

    Which... brings me to my point, which is that the dog has apparently been taking things that don't belong to him. Some of them have names written in them, some books, but most of these things have been difficult to return. I know for a fact that he confiscated possessions of an Emily Bennett, Evelyn O'Connell, and Cullen Rutherford. Also... [ At this, the Warden sifts through the pile as she speaks: ] Several boots, gloves, and gauntlets, mostly leather. A... necklace, I think, made of bone, a clay flower pot, some kind of- [ Maker's breath. She looks momentarily pained and spots of pink rise into the apples of her cheeks. ] Something... called Busty Asian Beauties, and several other things I've yet to identify.

    [ The picture on the cover of that particular piece of reading material is overwhelmingly embarrassing and she hastens to end the broadcast. ]

    Andraste's grace. Please stop by room thirty on the first floor if you've been missing something, or just tell me what you've lost and I will return it once I've made some sense of this mess.
    cutenug: (► confession.)
    [personal profile] cutenug
    What a strange place this is. There's so much magic here, and like none I've ever seen before. And this network! It's a wonderful little invention. Though not as wonderful as these closets. They gave me the most delightful pair of shoes when I asked. A bit unfashionable, but nothing that can't be changed.

    It's a shame there doesn't seem to be an exit. It makes this quite the gilded cage, does it not? And one does wonder how all the magic is powered. Even with blood magic and lyrium both, this is quite the feat.


    [ which, in her experience, means it's probably something terrible that will kill everyone or worse. which is what has her frowning at her device even as she makes a somewhat cheerful-sounding post. bless written missives and their ability to appear blase when leliana is too annoyed to mask her feelings entirely. ]

    At the very least, I suspect this will make for an interesting story someday, no?

    — L
    abelmedic: (oh the flash then the silence)
    [personal profile] abelmedic
    Action

    [Maxine Myers is doing her best not to panic.

    Which is not to say that she is not in a panic-worthy situation. She'd gone to sleep in an abandoned cottage on the road from London to Abel, having agreed to take second watch, and had opened her eyes again to find herself alone in a massive, ornate library. She had, of course, done the only sane and rational thing to do in that situation - which was to grab the tallest hardcover she could reasonably swing, slink her way toward the exit, and begin to pick her way down the hall pressed tight to the wall. Wherever she was, it was enormous, and in better repair than anything should have been after years of post-apocalyptic abandonment. That meant upkeep, it meant resources, and again. She did her best not to panic. Panic wouldn't help her get out or help her people find her. Panic wouldn't let her think, and she needed to think, now that apparently the danger wasn't as vanquished as they'd imagined.

    So she does her best to breathe deeply and quietly, inching along in search of an exit, ready to introduce the first face that tries to get between her and the front door to the spine of An Illustrated Encyclopaedia of Salarian Anatomic Variation. Zombie or not, she really doesn't care right now. She's had enough being locked away for one lifetime.]



    Video

    [Several hours later, with a few cups of coffee and a few more long explanations under her belt, Maxine sits down to her communicator.]

    Hello, everyone. For those of you who I haven't met, my name's Doctor Maxine Myers. For those of you I have met . . . ?

    [Maxine rakes her lip through her teeth, hesitating, thinking. This is an announcement she's never quite had to make, and on top of being awkward, it's so borderline impossible that finding the words is difficult.]

    I want to apologize. Apparently I've been here before, but I can honestly say that I don't remember a moment of it. So, to those of you who were my friends or my patients, I'm sorry. I'm going to trust my own judgement, so if you want to catch up, as much as we can? I'd love that, and I'll say thanks in advance for your patience. If it's too awkward, then I understand that too.

    That said, I'll be setting up shop again at the clinic! And I do still remember how to be a doctor. So for better or worse, I'm sure I'll see some of you soon. Take care.

    video; 002

    Mar. 15th, 2016 08:21 pm
    littlestreetcat: (pic#9816413)
    [personal profile] littlestreetcat
    [ Selina's absolutely not the type to turn to others for help. Especially not a whole open network of people. But sometimes, there are situations that occur that you just can't get out of on your own, and this is looking, very unfortunately, exactly like one of those.

    Basically, she's had an accident with something she stole from someone back during Saturnalia. It had looked like an innocent little vial of liquid, and while she's smart enough to know not to trust the contents since there's no label, sometimes accidents happen. And that sometimes means... Well, basically, she broke the vial and it's had an interesting effect on her.

    Nothing appears out of the ordinary when she starts up a video feed over the network, but she does look frustrated and gives a huff before getting to an explanation. ]


    Hey. So. I've got a little problem and was hoping someone out there might have a solution.

    [ With that, she lifts her left hand and reveals that it has been entirely trapped in crystal. ]

    Yeah. Long story, but to put it shortly, I "borrowed" this vial of something from some guy back during Saturnalia. I haven't really touched it again since then, but when I picked it up today, it kind of...broke. And this happened.

    [ A long, irritated glance is cast in the direction of her crystal-encased hand. ]

    Normally I have no problem dealing with my own problems, but this is kind of new. As in, I have no idea how to fix my hand. So if anyone has any ideas or actually knows what to do? That'd be great.
    tremoring: made for me; please don't take (commission [25])
    [personal profile] tremoring
    [A woman appears on the screen, mid-twenties, roughly 5'6'', a naturally tan-ish skin tone. She's dressed in her SHIELD uniform (since that's what she was last in at home), which may or may not make her stand out more; she doesn't know the rules here. Her accent is American -- mostly midwestern(ish) -- when she speaks: ]

    This is either the coolest SHIELD base ... or the worst day ever. Not sure which. [That's muttered more to herself as she glances tentatively around her before fixing her eyes back on the screen.]

    Right. Enter one confused Daisy Johnson, hi. [And there's a small wave from her.] If anyone feels like telling me where I am and-slash-or why I'm here, that would be awesome and I would appreciate it. I feel like asking if there's a way back home is going to produce zero results since I came here without knowledge or consent, but bonus points if you have one of those for me too. Or, you know, other tips for a newbie here.

    [A pause of a couple of seconds before she adds something on: ] Aaaand if there's any of my SHIELD team here? Check in, please.

    [With that, she ends the video.]
    bowsniper: (05)
    [personal profile] bowsniper
    Closed Action to Natasha (MCU) )

    [ After he got his room picked out and his mind wrapped around the fact that he was in a pocket dimension they called Wonderland (because fighting an army of robots couldn’t be the craziest thing he ever encountered, not to mention gods and aliens, no, now he had to be kidnapped to a children’s story) he figured maybe it was time to let the others know he was here. If Natasha hadn’t already that is. And he had to do it in of course the most public way possible. Because he was sometimes a jerk like that.

    A click of a button and there’s his stupid smirking face on the network.
    ]

    So I haven’t seen a white rabbit yet. I gotta say I’m a little disappointed about that. What’s the point if there’s no rabbit with a pocket watch? I hear the cat is here though. What about the caterpillar on LSD?

    What about an archery range? You guys have one of those? Or am I going to have to shoot targets from the roof? [ He would do it too, if he got bored.]

    Speaking of…hey Stark. Feel like building me a new bow? I seem to have left the old one back home, where I was, before getting kidnapped to a freaky LSD flashback.

    Yeah, uh, I heard I might have been here before. Um sorry if I don’t remember you. For those of you who don’t know, the name’s Clint.
    [ With that the feed cuts out.]

    Video

    Mar. 7th, 2016 06:58 pm
    scowls: (080)
    [personal profile] scowls
    [ For a few moments, all that’s visible in the slightly shaky view is an exciting expanse of bland-colored carpet. A light scratching sound is audible in time with the tilting of the image, as though the material that covers the device is moving against something unyielding and metallic. To someone who’s seen this sort of thing before, it’s indicative of someone examining the device.

    A moment later, the image blurs and the boring carpet is replaced by large green eyes, shaggy white hair, thick black eyebrows, a scowling mouth, and a chin marred by white lines. ]


    Hn. [ It’s a derisive snort, though the word that follows is even more so, heavily laden with disgust. ] Magic.

    [ The image spins again, resolving a few dizzying seconds later to a crooked view of a sparsely furnished room. It’s the sort of room that looks to have never yet been lived in, the furniture of the most generic sort. Prowling near the far wall is the owner of that too-close face.

    He’s wearing spiky armor, sharply pointed gauntlets, and a conspicuous lack of shoes. Pointed ears poke out of his hair and when he turns to unlimber a large greatsword from his back, more of the white lines are visible on his skin where it shows through gapes in his armor. As is probably apparent, he has no idea that he’s being recorded and continues to examine the room with wary unease.

    The video will continue for quite some time, documenting a positively riveting video of an over-armored elf doing nothing but poking around a room, until he’s alerted to the fact that the device is both active and broadcasting his business to others.

    Someone, quite clearly, does not know how to use the communication device properly. ]
    uncaging: (Default)
    [personal profile] uncaging
    [Elizabeth holds the device awkwardly, poking at the screen and not realising she's holding it upside down. She peers into the camera, her eyes filled with her curiosity, wondering how anyone could capture moving pictures on something so small.]

    Quelqu'un peut-il m'entendre? Où suis-je?

    [She certainly wasn't in Columbia any more, but the question is, just where was she? Paris was her best hope, especially if the tears were a form of wish fulfilment as she'd long theorised, but then again, she'd been concentrating hard to get to another, very specific version of Columbia. She couldn't have gone this wrong, could she?]

    Does the name Columbia mean anything to anyone here? Or Zachary Comstock? Or ... or Booker De Witt?

    [Her composure shakes a little with that last one; simultaneously feeling still angry toward Booker and missing the one friend she'd ever had immensely. She's not sure whether she wants recognition and some sort of common ground here to help her adjust, or a completely clean break from it all. The latter option sounded too good to be true.]
    curiousher: (Upside down)
    [personal profile] curiousher
    [When Alice appears on the screen today, she's bobbing up and down in excitement with the widest smile – even without eyes to accompany it. Curiously, for those who have never met Alice before, her gaze always goes to the camera somehow, even though by all accounts she should not be able to see it.]

    Everyone! I've thought of the most marvelous riddle and simply had to share it immediately! So many of you are much smarter than I am, and I'm certain you'll come up with an answer easily.

    Hm... [She brings a hand to her chin and frowns in thought.] Now, how did it go again? I think it was..."If there's something in the forest, and no one's ever seen it, how do they know it's—" --no, that's not quite right, is it? Someone who's seen it obviously told them and that isn't much of a riddle at all. Maybe it was...maybe it was "If everyone's scared of a beast in the forest, but no one's ever seen the beast, is it truly a beast at all"? Hmm...I don't think it was.

    [Alice scratches her temple, frustrated that she's lost the correct wording to her absolutely fantastic riddle.]

    Perhaps it wasn't so marvelous after all. [She shrugs. Eh. Over it.] Oh well. Everyone knows who you are is much more important than the sort of riddles you tell. So, let's do that instead!

    Tell me Wonderland - who are all of you today? That ought to be much more curious than some riddle.

    [She rests her chin in her hands, waiting for answers, and then the video feed flickers off.]
    sponsored: (040)
    [personal profile] sponsored
    were the closets playing pranks on anyone else yesterday?
    [ faith's morning had started with a rather ... rural wake up call. she'd really hoped the little bastard would just disappear overnight. instead, he woke her up at the crack of dawn to a room full of feathers and pecked drywall.

    eventually she'll have to just ... accept her new fowl-ler. into the diner for breakfast, where he's actually quite patient (and fond of toast). on to the gym for her morning workout, where apparently he needs a nap after all that strenuous crowing.

    his cocky attitude returns in the library, where faith had planned hanging out for about an hour, learning about the supernatural elements of other worlds. she would've been better served looking up ways to keep him quiet, once it's clear he's going to continue hollering. amid glares and shushing, she scoops him up and tries apologizing over the noise before giving one particular patron the bird.

    she practically books it out, rooster tucked under her arm. and as she makes her way, she doesn't notice the mess he leaves behind along the hallways. a trail of feathers and excrement leading to angel investigations, where the closet still refuses to cooperate and give her a cage. at least the cock is having fun with the pile of bic ballpoints beside her.
    ]
    do leashes work on chickens?
    [ by the end of the night, she's given up. the stupid thing even follows her to the bar where at least the corn nuts seem to satisfy him. she can nap at one of the tables, right...? ]

    ( ooc | feel free to catch her anywhere / make up somewhere else to find faith wrangling a mother clucking rooster as she goes about her day :3 )
    assembles: down, sad, formal clothes (but i need to be drunk)
    [personal profile] assembles
    [ Steve's given it a few days.

    There hadn't been any real reason for it. The moment that the door between his room and Bucky's had disappeared once more, he'd known it in his gut. Finding the room completely vacant had only made it concrete. He could have announced it right then and there, but he'd needed some time to compose himself, and...

    Maybe a tiny part of him had hoped to be wrong, even though he knew Wonderland's pattern all too well at this point.

    He doesn't have it in him to show a strong face right now, so it's only his voice that he broadcasts to the network. That, at least, he should be able to keep steady. ]


    To anyone who knew Bucky Barnes — some of you may have known him as James — he's left the mansion. All of his belongings are gone, including his phone.

    [ Steve has to do this, as painful as it might be. Bucky had made real friends here, he'd gotten close to other people, and they all deserve to know what happened. Everything that Steve and Bucky had grown here, it's gone now, but for a while it can live on in the memories of each person who'd considered Bucky a friend. Except that bit by bit, those people will disappear too. Steve knows how this goes by now. ]

    I'm sorry you had to find out this way. [ But most people probably haven't noticed Bucky's absence yet. He hadn't been one for routine, and he hadn't let people into his room when he wasn't there. ] He would have at least wanted the chance to say goodbye. [ But now he's gone, and all of that recovery, all of those new memories, are gone with him.

    Steve can tell that he's spiraling, negative thoughts feeding on each other, and so it's better to cut this off before he slips. ]
    That's all. [ And with that, the recording ends.

    Rather than in his room, Steve is currently at the bar, figuring that most people wouldn't think to look for him there. But it's tempting to try and get his hands on some Asgardian mead. Just like the last time he lost Bucky, he has to struggle with the fact that he can't get drunk so easily. ]
    accelero: (pic#9901086)
    [personal profile] accelero
    So I'm pretty sure people have asked these before me but I couldn't find an archive of FAQ anywhere and I just want to be on the safe side:

    1. can we assume all food inside the mansion is safe? I'm p sure the rule was some would make a person smaller and/or bigger and I'm really not feeling the whole different perspectives experience.

    2. is anyone here somehow experienced with traveling through the multiverse aside of arriving here? if so, I'd like a word. I'm Barry Allen and I'm @ third floor.
    mviw: (I'd tuck you in but you're dead.)
    [personal profile] mviw
    [It's been at least several hours of dodging strangers in a mysterious garden belonging to the shifting architecture of a mansion that must've come right off the pages of a fairytale... or from a nightmare. Ford has tried everything to wake himself up from what he believes is a dream; perhaps a trap in which Bill has locked him away, or some pocket dimension, or what if he's even dead, or... or...

    All he remembers is raising his hands to answer Bill's "riddle", a bright light, and extreme discomfort.

    He scrubs his hand over his head and looks down at the unfamiliar device he found on his person not too long after he woke up.]


    Come on, Stanford. He trapped you here. You have to wake up. This has to be a riddle, a game...

    [If it's a game Bill wants, Ford decides he might have to play it long enough to wake up--just wake up--

    He starts typing out a message, and reminds himself to trust no one. If he's been blasted to another dimension, it might actually be better than being locked in his own mind, but... if this is his own mindscape, it doesn't seem to fit. It's definitely something Mabel would come up with, but him? No.

    What then, is it? Where is he?]


    ATTENTION DENIZENS OF THIS REALM--

    My name is Stanford Pines and I come in relative peace. I am attempting to communicate through this device. If you understand this language, please respond.


    [That's ambiguous enough, and--] There. I drew my line in the sand.

    [He pockets the numbered, lettered pad and sets out to explore.]

    Tags

    LAYOUT BASE @ [community profile] fruitstyle