pig_and_pepper: (Default)
[personal profile] pig_and_pepper
[ It is Tuesday. Oh so very Tuesday, oh so very early. Night's not lifted yet at all, poor sunrise, so very far away. But 'tis time. And perhaps you'll hear her all the same. Or perhaps you'll not. ]


[ ...No, suppose you probably would.

(She's there in plain sight, after all, on the monitors and on that meadow by the forest, with an array of patterned bags and colourful suitcases at her feet, packed and ready for departure.)

'Tis all fallen to pieces, and you'll insult me no more with it! I wash my hands clean of your mess, and may you all stay here, stay here, and put it back together bit by bit by bit by hideous, hideous, crumbling bit. After all I've done for you!

[ The Duchess sobs loudly into her sleeve. Behind her the forest rustles gently, as gently as any ominous forest by night ever could. The piglet in her arms squeals tiredly, ever so patient with the Duchess' display. ]

I tell you now, I tell you the last thing I shall ever tell! You've stretched my patience oh so very thin, and now the land stretches as well. Too high, too wide, too far to reach. Beware! Beware, that is all I might tell you. Tread more carefully with it, as you've trodden with me, else you'll fall--

[ She sighs, ever so deeply. ]

--as far as your morals have fallen.

[ With that the Duchess gazes pointedly at the mansion one last time, stuffs her little pig into a chequered duffle bag, and lugs her belongings off into the forest, where she vanishes between the trees. ]
whatseparates: (from shade to light)
[personal profile] whatseparates
[This time, Jack's video is very much intentional, and very much in contrast with his last. He's looking directly into the camera, though one eye is swollen half-shut, and the other is in the process of swelling, due to the fact that his nose is spectacularly broken, and blood is beginning to pool under the skin of his eye sockets. The lower half of his face is covered in blood, but that's nothing compared to his coated hands and sodden sleeves. There's evidence of wounds elsewhere on his body, bloody spots and a certain care in his breathing that suggests something the matter with his abdomen and ribs, but his hands and arms are mostly untouched; the blood there isn't his.

When he speaks, his voice is hoarse, rough. Talking isn't any easier for him than it's ever been, but he has something to say, and he's driven by rage.]

I wanted to tell you all something:

Don't fuck with me. Don't fuck with my people. You won't survive it. And I know you'll come back--but maybe you'll wish you didn't.

Locked to Sinclair )
androidhell: (you monster.)
[personal profile] androidhell
I know how worried you all are about the organic killing machines. I can sympathize. And you know what? I've found that your new furry friends really don't do well against deadly lasers. Who knew?

I've secured a safe room on the first floor. Follow the trails of mutilated hounds.

Oh. I should mention. The door has an electronic lock that I just can't seem to control. But you can probably open it if you can work through the algorithm on the door.

No, don't bother. You can thank me whenIF you get in here.
manhunthotline: (keep it down over there!)
[personal profile] manhunthotline
[With oddly apropos timing, given the recent appearance of the traveler, detective Benny Stango has arrived in the middle of a conversation with Mark Meltzer's answering machine--his last conversation with either it or the man himself, in fact. Without his noticing, the ground has changed under his feet from damp concrete to carpet, and the pay phone he's been clutching has been replaced by the Wonderland standard-issue communicator unit.

So the network gets treated to a low voice, sharp with panic and thickly-accented (the Bronx, if anyone was wondering). And he's shouting. Despite years of smoking, the man has a set of lungs on him.]

--Jesus, Meltzer, what is that thing?! I took a shot at it, it didn't even flinch! I ran the whole way back to the squad car--yeah, I gotta remember to clean the seat--jesus, Meltzer, I never believed you were right, I'm sorry! Just gimme a c--

[The voice stops, almost cut off. Stango's looked up, finally noticed the change.]

What the hell...?

[At least he's still blissfully ignorant of the whole hellhound issue.]
carbon_knight: (Default)
[personal profile] carbon_knight
Mark is in his double's room, bent slightly over the fishtank in the corner, when he notices the red recording light from the wall mounted camera. He sets the jar of shrimp he was holding on the desk with a irritable huff and goes to shut it off--then, taken by a sudden impulse, pauses.
Steps back. Looks directly into the lens.

"You know what? You know what, I don't know who's watching, but I have something to say. I know it's not our fault, how we're made. I don't blame you for being broken--narcissistic--disaffected--sociopaths. But..."

What is this?

"We have a very brief, very limited existence, by the standards of our Others."

What is he doing?

"We wait and watch in enforced patience, and I am aware that it is a trial, for many..."

...Why can't he stop?

"But we are born into a place that we know has full capacity to grant wishes. Right now we even have leave to do whatever we wish. But this seems like an ordinary day on the other side, to me. And ordinary days really aren't much. And. I'm disappointed, I suppose. In all of us."

Finally, as if something has released its hold on him, he lunges for the camera. Viewers might catch an expression of abject horror on his face before the feed cuts off.

He can be found rushing out of the mansion, trying not to look at any of the cameras he passes on his way, or, later, out in the hedge maze--it's the first hiding place he thinks of. In his hurry, he might have forgotten that his comm device is still in his pocket.
carbon_knight: (phone)
[personal profile] carbon_knight
M!Mark doesn't like being watched much. And he's aware that, vacation or no vacation, the Realside's cameras and communicators have an unfortunate tendency to turn themselves on. So for the most part, he spends his time outdoors, returning only to eat and to take care of his real's pets--on the condition that Mark watch his, of course.

Today he's set up a little camp down by the docks—there would be more shade under the trees, and there's the new, intriguing rumor of something happening out there--but he'd wanted to visit the spot, and, since he has a bill to settle, he doesn't want to be completely impossible to find.

He's sent a note with his location to Mell:

Do you have a good sense of direction?
breakitapart: (the introduction)
[personal profile] breakitapart
[It's your friendly neighborhood Mirror!Kid, smiling oh so pleasantly behind his bandanna as he faces the camera.]

This is proving to be quite the nice vacation, isn't it? There are so many interesting places and things to examine here. And such a wealth of materials not always afforded to us Mirrors. For instance, look at what I have found among my double's possessions.

[He ducks out of camera view for a moment, then reappears with what looks like a giant, horrible, shoulder-mounted cannon of some kind.]

Do you suppose our fair queen would accept it if I presented it to her? It may well be a fine addition to her arsenal.
androidhell: (maybe they worked at the phone company.)
[personal profile] androidhell
[ There's a series of sounds before there's a voice; whirring, clicking, a few strange snaps and such. All mechanical, partly electronic. And then there's the android voice from a while earlier, tone neutral. Maybe with the slightest tint of worn-out, for those with good discernment. ]

Well, I've certainly learned more about you all that I ever wanted to know. For the people who discovered the cameras, don't touch them. For the people who didn't know there were cameras until right now, congratulations. And don't touch them.

Do you know what kind of insanity this place is? Think about it. A marvel of defying logic, and you morons are wrapping up in the domestic to keep warm.

If anyone's interested in progress, I need test subjects. Luckily, I have no itch in this place, so you probably won't end up donating any limbs to science.
whatseparates: (are you a troubled one?)
[personal profile] whatseparates
[It's a bit of a delayed reaction; in fact, Jack's taken a couple of weeks to acknowledge what happened with the door, but he's here now--maskless and composed, if still a little shy--to demonstrate that he was in fact paying attention. And it hasn't escaped him that the event and its aftermath seem to have faded from the minds of the Mansion's inhabitants. People are introducing themselves to new arrivals, vague announcements hinting at events are being made, business as usual. But should business be as usual?]

Does anyone know what happened to the Red Queen?

How I see it...

The first two times that door opened, a monster came out. Just because this looks different, doesn't mean it is.
lowkeyangel: (☀ I'm listening)
[personal profile] lowkeyangel
[Gabriel's up on the roof, with the sky behind him and a treeline visible far below. He's keeping an eye on things, like the people who are holed up, but he still doesn't feel the need to be involved. He's up here for a breather. He's got a new sword, he's well on the way to being patched up — if it wasn't all-horror, all the time with this event, things might be approaching decent. You know. Maybe.

And while he's up here...]

So. Can't help but noticing that every time people make a bogus guess, a death critter gets released from the door. This is just a suggestion, but maybe you guys should, you know, collaborate before you throw random words out there. If a giant death manatee or a killer cow comes out next, don't say I didn't warn ya.

This is why we can't have nice things, kids.
testmetestmetestme: (Default)
[personal profile] testmetestmetestme
[Say who's that in front of the big door? It's Mell! There's a red-orange glowing hole in the floor beside her, y'know, just in case, and looking down it you'll see... the wall across from Chell's room. Which is on the tenth floor.

Physics aside, Mell seems to be taking her shot writing on the door. Her message before she starts:]

Don't worry, guys! I got this! I had a friend in my world who could hack passwords! So it's only a matter of time before I get this one!!

[And then she starts writing:]


[She waits, and then rubs it out and goes again:]


[... Guys?]




[Stop her.]

fearsnothing: (29 Ω my darling (completely torn apart))
[personal profile] fearsnothing
[ It feels much like as if she'd just tumbled down a rabbit hole for the umpteenth time in her life, with the exception that there is no hole and no white rabbit to chastise her for her tardiness. There is, however, a vast expanse of green terrain, a strange device in her pocket and the feeling that something is not as it should be: this is neither the exit to Moorgate Station, nor the surrealist cityscape she'd been faced with upon moments earlier. ]


[ Why is it, Alice reminisces, that all of this should happen now; is it true that she really can't find her way home? Not funny, Cat.

Give her a moment (perhaps longer than she'd care to admit, but that's honestly beside the point when you find yourself somewhere you don't quite recall) to figure out what use this new object has.
Text? Why not. ]

Wonderland changes much and much too soon, doesn't it? How is it that I close my eyes for less than a second and my surroundings have morphed into something else entirely? There is absolutely nothing familiar about this.
Have you changed too, Cat? I would hope not; I've grown fond of your mangy self. But the question remains: are you watching in amusement as I attempt to figure out where to go from here? How am I to find my way if I have nothing ahead of me to anticipate? There is no more train, no more ruin, no more filth and corruption - there must be a catch; nothing ever changes quite this quickly, does it?
I would appreciate an honest answer: where am I exactly? What is this building? Where are you, Cat, and where is the Hatter? The Queen? The Carpenter, perhaps?
It is not as if I will run out of time, but my patience still wears thin; I do not appreciate being played like a fool, especially not after all that happened.

Sincerely yours,
donttestme: (Devestation)
[personal profile] donttestme
[Chell stares at the camera of this little device she found in her pocket. It may not have the same white, modern curves of an Aperture device, but it was something meant to record and monitor, which mean there was someone(something) watching and listening. She glares at it, fury burning in her eyes. Her lips form a slight frown, which grows deeper as the feed carries on.

Her hand shakes and she cuts the feed suddenly, because she’s about to scream at the device and whoever is monitoring her (as if it could be anything else).

She was supposed to be free!]


[She takes a deep breath, and suddenly, the anger is gone. It would be safe to turn the camera back on, but she doesn’t. She sent her message. She’s just waiting now, for her to make contact, to tell her she was kidding and then start insulting her intelligence, her weight, her parentage, whatever she thought would get to her.

It wouldn’t. It never would. No one would ever get that satisfaction.

She starts walking down the halls, testing doors, looking for a way out. She’s not going to waste time standing around until she gets an answer, if any is to come.]

[Edit: And now she's smashing mirrors on her way.]
hamburellakind: (:])
[personal profile] hamburellakind
[John woke up feeling quite content. His bed was so comfy, after all, and he had a long dreamless sleep. He couldn't quite remember where he was, for a moment, but as soon as his feet touched the ground and he stretched up over his head, he remembered:


What a wonderful day of wonders to wake up in the wonderful Wonderland?

Grinning, he made his way to the mirror and picked up the dry erase marker on a nearby table to start his note.]

Wonderland is the best, isn't it?

[Oh, he better leave this on other mirrors, so all the person-mirrors can see it. Surely that will brighten their days! John leaves in a hurry, bare feet slapping against wood as he goes into every room on the floor and leaves the message for all to see.]
carbon_knight: (rabbit)
[personal profile] carbon_knight
Hello, Wonderland. Have a video of a large green snake, sloooooowly unhinging her jaws to consume the corpse of a little white mouse. She swallows it whole, of course, so the whole process takes some time.

If you're patient--and if you're not squeamish--around the same time that the mouse finally clears the snake's jaws, a pair of hands will enter the frame, and the video will cut out briefly, to be replaced by a wallcam view of m!Mark. Gently, carefully, he lifts the now-sedate snake and sets her on his shoulders before turning to face the camera.

On this side of the mirror he's picked up a pair of treehopper wings, tented up over his head like a hood. The effect is half-comical, half-menacing. For someone who's never been altered by an event before, he seems remarkably unruffled.

"I'd like a rough head count, please. How many of you--mirrors or reals, it's all the same to me--were here the October before last?"


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