pistolproof: nah son i just don't want to go back to the locker (conversion?)
[personal profile] pistolproof
[ Jack doesn't know where he is.

This would be much more alarming if it didn't happen on a semi-regular basis.

Last he remembers, he was standing on a dock in Tortuga, watching Hector Barbossa sail away with his ship for the third time, that bastard. But between one blink and the other, he was suddenly standing in the middle of some hedge maze with no idea how he got here.

It doesn't take him long to navigate his way out of the maze and to begin taking a look at his surroundings. He spends some time walking along the boundaries of he mansion, from the gardens to the docks to the pool before navigating the mansion itself. He ends up in a kitchen -- more specifically, the kitchen cabinets.

When the feed starts, Jack is standing at counter, with around twenty or more bottles of rum piled up next to him. If you're assuming he opened the cabinet, took out a bottle of rum, closed it, opened it, found another bottle, over and over and over again, you would be correct.
]

This's some sorta witchcraft, aye? Magic. Voodoo. [ His eyes grow wide before he narrows them. ] It ain't gonna be poisoned if I drink it, is it?

Or cursed? [ He frowns. He's had quite enough of curses for one lifetime. ] I don't like curses.




[ Or! Feel free to slam into him while he's wandering around the mansion. Anywhere and everywhere is free game. ]
formercheerio: (04)
[personal profile] formercheerio
So how many pigs were there and how many are left?

[ Quinn knows that Clarisse said 'don't make bacon' but. You know. Not everyone listens. Also survival of the fittest piggy or something they could be dangerous

It's Wonderland be quiet ]


And did anyone actually keep them?

[ Other than her she totally has a piggy. It's growing on her. She doesn't know why she kept it but it's cute. And has a basket and everything. Not that it really sleeps in the basket but she will hope that one day her piggy will sleep in the basket ]

Because- [ And here's the admittance. She'll feel silly if she was the only one ] -how do you actually look after a pig? Dogs I get but not a pig.

[ Ask her why she kept it. Dare you ]

At least they're not running around everywhere anymore.

[ Except hers. It's currently trying to make a dash for the exit. Apparently her door was open. She might be currently now ignoring her device, or rather hastily shutting it off in order to chase her pig into the hallway. Little devil is fast. Someone stop that pig!! ]
mamasgirl: (pic#7748405)
[personal profile] mamasgirl
[The video feed cuts on amidst the sounds of random buttons being pressed. After a few seconds, a young girl's dirt-and-bruised-covered face appears on the screen. She's much too close to the camera and it's obvious she has no idea that anyone else can see this.

She pokes at the device once more, causing another series of various noises as buttons are pushed. The sounds bring a delighted smile to her face and she giggles before finally speaking in a way that a toddler typically would, despite her clearly being nearly school age.]


Moooosic. [She pauses then calls out with delight one of the few words she can say with perfect annunciation.]

Victoria!

[At the mention of her sister, the girl's curious gaze and joyful, carefree smile gives way to a sorrowful expression as memories of where she was, what was happening, rush back over her. Victoria said no. Victoria wouldn't go with her. Wouldn't go with Mama.

With a grunt of anger, she throws the device away from her, causing it to land at a slightly skewed angle on the ground. The child can still be seen, though, prowling about on all fours - feet flat on the ground and back arched in a very unnatural manner - as she continues to explore the area of woods where she's found herself.

A sniff of a pine cone, an absent bite of a bit of plant that she chews with smacking lips and zero regard for if it's actually edible or not, and she finally drops back on her haunches while turning her attention to the trees.]


Where Mama? [The words are as much of a whine as they are an order. A heartbeat passes and now she sounds as though she's striking some sort of deal.] Lilly stay. Mama come. [With her mind made up and her gaze still on the trees above, she suddenly reaches out and snatches a bug out of the air. Her attention flickers to the bug and she smiles ever so slightly, watching it crawl across her fingers... before abruptly shoving it into her mouth.

It makes an audible crunch as she begins chewing, doing her best to be patient while waiting for mama to arrive.]
drinkupmehearties: (Borrowed without permission)
[personal profile] drinkupmehearties
[ Sometime between downing the last of his rum and lowering the empty bottle, the scenery around him had abruptly shifted. There was suddenly no tang of salt to the air, no cool breeze on his face, or the quiet bobbing of the dinghy over calm ocean waves. Nope. Instead, in its place, was solid ground, the warmth of indoors, the mild scent of incense permeating the air. And an immensely puzzled pirate captain, now presently sitting on the smooth floor of the Entrance Hall.

Jack took a couple moments to process this abrupt change -- glancing side to side with a furrowed brow -- then patted himself down to check that his effects were still on him. The network device was discovered thereafter, buried in one of his coat pockets. Jack let out a curious: 'oh!' and proceeded to investigate it, turning it over and sideways and around a few times. Then, for a couple minutes, he watched the network -- and all the strange voices and faces that flashed across it -- with a mildly perturbed expression.

Eventually it's by some miracle (AKA the random, accidental press of buttons) that the video is actually turned on. And then it's only mid-sentence, of course, and with half of Jack's face filling the entirety of the feed: ]
-- bizarre contraption or somewhat of the sort. [ When Jack speaks, a couple words here and there are accented with a flash of silver from his teeth. The view shifts, then, and the pirate peers closer. Enjoy that extreme close up of one suspicious, squinting, kohl-framed eye, everyone. ]

Blimey. This is a dream, i'n'it? [ An expectant beat, then: ] Ah. Well o' course it is, what else could it be. [ The feed draws back, and one can see the corner of his mouth twitch, upper lip slightly upturned. Jack lifts the empty bottle in his hand, watching the last few drops dribble out. ] Not a particularly fantastic dream, mind you, given the most recent and appalling deficit of rum. [ The view shifts away to the ceiling of the Entrance Hall as he sets the device down, and Jack continues. ] Could be much better, too, really, with all things considered.
bottlearum: (We are a call to all)
[personal profile] bottlearum
[ Jack Sparrow is in the library.

However, he's not here looking for a book. No, he's here for a different kind of information, a kind that can't be found on the shelves of Wonderland's library. Spurred on by Tom's truly horrific event, as well as Mark's post earlier, Jack comes to you now, Wonderland, with a plea for knowledge. With a few sheets of loose-leaf paper and a pen in front of him, Jack solemnly turns to the network.
]

I've been thinkin'. These past few weeks ain't exactly been easy on anyone. And rightfully so. This past event was...

[ He looks down. He's not pitying, if anything, he's looks more sympathetic. He wasn't one of the victims, but he has been murdered before. You can thank Elizabeth Swann and Davy Jones for that one. ]

...well, I believe terrible is a suitable underestimation, eh? But! [ He holds out his index finger. ] If we're to prevent this from happenin' again, we've gotta be prepared, aye?

Knowing all there is to know about each other's world is helpful, yes, but it don't mean nothin' if we don't know what's comin' next.

Here's what I propose. [ Jack gestures with both of his hands as he speaks, waving them all about himself. ] If we can figure out who's already had events, and what those events were, we might be able to find a pattern and predict what's gonna happen next, especially if we've got information on everyone's worlds.

After all, it's easier to predict the future when you know the past. So, if anyone who's...

[ Jack picks up the pen beside him, about to write something on the sheets of paper in front of him. But, it's not the kind of pen he's used to writing with. There's a button at the end of it and, completely distracted from whatever he had been saying, Jack pushes it.

Click. The writable part of the pen pops out of the front.
] ... [ Jack pushes it again. Click.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Guess who just discovered clicky pens, Wonderland.
]
bottlearum: (All to Hell we must sail)
[personal profile] bottlearum
Oi!

[ That's it, that's all the warning you get, Wonderland. Guess who's back. Did you guess Jack Sparrow? Because it's Jack Sparrow.

When the feed starts, the shot of Jack himself doesn't last very long beyond the split second of pure irritation on his face before he flips the screen around. And here is Jack Sparrow's room.

His room which is completely destroyed. His bed is in shambles, his sheets not only strewn across the room, but torn as well. Every single drawer has been pulled open and everything that can be physically moved has been pushed away from the walls or toppled over on their sides, as though someone wanted to find something and wanted to make sure the thing wasn't hiding against the wall or under anything.

Unlike the last time Jack's room was in disarray, he doesn't seem entirely pleased with the state of it now.

Not only that, but there is glitter on the ground. Every single inch of the ground is, somehow, covered in glitter, glistening in the light like tiny little broken pieces of glass.

But that's not all.

Jack makes his way to the table, smack dab in the center of the room. On the table lays a dead rat, impaled through the middle with a kitchen knife. Jack flips the camera back around to him, one single eyebrow raised.
]

You know, mate, I understand you ain't too keen on the kitchens, but they've got apples. You ain't gotta catch your own food. 'Sides, [ He flips the camera back over to the dead rat. Merry Christmas, Wonderland. ] That hardly looks sanitary, eh?
bottlearum: (The air of home)
[personal profile] bottlearum
[ Later that night, after this post has aired, Jack Sparrow and Hector Barbossa made their way to the grounds to rid themselves of that horrid, evil spirit bound in literature. This is the aftermath of that joint venture.

The feed opens up to both of them, standing side by side, silent and still, eyes focused on something just out of view of the feed. It takes a few seconds for Jack to remember that he'd started up his communicator but, when he does, he brings his attention back to it.

His face is even and his voice level as he speaks and, despite the sun having set a few hours ago, there's still enough light for both of them to clearly be seen on screen. Weird.
]

Nobody panic... but I think there is a fire.

[ And with those troubling words, Jack flips the device around and you're greeted with the sight Jack and Hector had been staring it. It is, indeed, a fire.

And I don't mean a campfire or a bonfire. No, I mean half the mansion grounds are legitimately on fire.

This is not a drill, I repeat, this is not a drill.

And then, calmly and unconcerned, Jack and Hector's voices drift through the speakers, as though they weren't witnessing a horrendous natural disaster occurring right before their very eyes.
]

For the record, I'd like to state this be your fault. If not for you, nary would I have wandered down here. [Because, no, he'd have just burned it in the stove or the microwave most likely.]

You were the one that decided to read futuristic porn, mate. Not me.

Wouldn't have read it if I knew it were porn, would I? Still your fault.

Is not.

Is very well so.

Is not!

It very well is so, and you know it.

[ Yeah, they could on like this for a while. Someone might... want to do something about that fire, though. ]
bottlearum: (What lies in store?)
[personal profile] bottlearum
[ It's not long after the event ends that Jack starts up the feed. Behind him you can see, in a shocking turn of events, that his room is based off the Capatin's cabin of the Black Plearl.

Except, it's a complete mess. Chairs have been knocked over, the table is knocked over, papers are everywhere, books and jewelry and empty bottles and blankets are strewn across the floor, his sword sticking out of the wall. His room is completely ransacked, like someone had thrown a giant, all-encompassing temper tantrum.

And in the middle of it all, sitting crisscross applesauce, is Jack Sparrow, pleasant little smile on his face.

Once he's made certain the feed is on and running, Jack waves a hand and starts speaking. Nothing strange here.
]

Right. I've been here long enough to know how these things work. These "events", as they are, are based offa one of us. Our memories, our world, [ He waves his hand in an etc., ect., motion. ] ...so on and so forth.

[ Jack picks at one of his fingernails, the perfect picture of nonchalance. ]

So. Who's event would that last one be, eh?
ofletters: (but dismiss your fears)
[personal profile] ofletters
Secrets. [ There's a dry laugh, something wearied and underscored with years and years of self-loathing and disappointment. ] People'll kill to keep some stuff under wraps. And a lot of the others're just broadcasting out the worst things they've done. Stealing, lying, a murder--

[ There's a stretch of silence, now. What would it be like, to have more normalized worries, to only have something mildly mortifying to look back on and regret? ]

... I'm not doing either. Can't-- Won't. Killing someone isn't worth that. But I'm not going with this story time of twisted crap, either. I--

[ The things he'd done are, in his own mind, far past the point of sharing and caring. ]

I can't forgive myself for it all, but I can't talk about it, either. So if it comes out, it comes out.
idolises: (03)
[personal profile] idolises
So, show of hands. Who doesn't care about their secret enough to kill someone? Or just wouldn't kill someone anyway. I'm not asking what it is, because I don't care either - unless you're a psychopath that might kill me, but if you're not? Great. Let's not kill anyone.

[ Because really, haven't enough people died lately after the last thing? ]

Because, let's be honest, the last crazy thing wasn't that long ago. If this can go without anyone dying [ Or anyone else. She knows someone has already ] that would be nice, and probably make some of this crap worth it. Right?

[ Thea's in a hallway that's looking out onto the grounds, just having a look around. She hasn't been outside much since arriving in Wonderland, and even less since the whole makeover - was it any different to before? Maybe. She couldn't actually tell, she didn't know the place well enough. She's in a quiet area, quiet enough that if anyone were to approach her they might make her jump - she wouldn't expect them, anyway. But it looks nice outside, and pretty peaceful. She needed it ]
sinkships: ({Rage} this is the first of the last)
[personal profile] sinkships
[Redglare is looking a bit more bedraggled today, and oddly dressed. In fact, she looks a little more pirate-y than she used to. Well, a lot more pirate-y. Okay completely pirate-y. BUT SHE IS NOT A PIRATE. She is a woman of the law, even if it is her own law.

There are breeches and a white shirt and a vest and an impressively long coat, though she is missing a hat. In place of her glasses, there is a ragged strip of cloth tied around her eyes, because even like this she is blind. She is up on the highest place she can get to in the Mansion, which is of course the roof, and she shouting enough to bring the sky down. At least, if the sky was brave enough to come down and face her, which is clearly isn't.]


You! All of you! You sit under the thrall of this queen, of this land like dogs! Do you not want to find out why you are here‽ Why are you simply content to simply lay in the lap of luxury? Do you think it is fair to endure hellhounds and worse‽ You claim to want freedom, but you are simply content here doing little and gaining little and doing nothing to take it for yourselves!

[The speech goes on for SOME TIME. It is long, angry and by the end of it her throat is sore and her voice sounds raspy. It's amazing how much confidence someone who is shouting on a roof to the populace can exude, no matter how shabby their clothes.]

The items you have gained and the experiences you have gained... Are they really worth the things you have lost? Your worlds? Your friends? Your memories?
faceofbeau: ({♡} Are you thinking what I'm thinking)
[personal profile] faceofbeau
Wonderland, huh?

[There's a snort from the man on the screen, a handsome face that may be very familiar to some of those watching. Not that he's aware of that yet; having just arrived, he hasn't had time to comb through the network of posts available, to realize exactly who's here. What he has had time to realize is exactly what this place is supposed to resemble, and to realize that if he's ended up here, then he might not be the only one of his team.]

Can't say I was ever a big fan of the book, and the Disney movie was a bit too out there for my tastes. I commend the workmanship of the place, though, looks great- dead on to what I'd imagine it'd actually look like if Wonderland were a real. I'd commend it even more if someone could tell me exactly where we are, and how I got here, since I can't seem to recall actually getting here. Any takers?
hannibal: (Thinky thinkity think think)
[personal profile] hannibal
[ he hasn't spoken much on the network since his arrival, but the arrival had been somewhat of a surprise enough for this particular doctor. he's taken it upon himself to become more acquainted with Wonderland, particularly the kitchens and the cupboards, consistently keeping himself occupied by creating things in the kitchens.

as of right now, he can be seen in the library, legs crossed as he glances down into the device, the thought striking him: ]


I feel as though this place would benefit from my services. I have heard from many individuals who seem to be ...unhappy. Perhaps slightly unstable. Depressed, anxious. One would think in our surroundings, these feelings would be compounded.

If you wish to seek professional help in the form of a counselor, please do allow me to be of assistance. I'm a trained forensic psychiatrist. Considering the circumstances, and an unfortunately bleak future regarding returning home, I would like to set up a practice here in Wonderland. As of now, our sessions would be either in the library; if you would care for a more private setting I would be more than happy to offer my living arrangement as an office environment as well.

Feel free to either reach me here, or if you would care to, you may leave a message for me at any time and I will be happy to set up an appointment for us both. [ he smiles, briefly, the action spreading thin over his lips. ] Thank you.

( ooc: for the event, this hannibal has never met will graham. so hardly any fear or trepidation in picking up new patients. )
strategisch: (maybe he's born with it)
[personal profile] strategisch
[Armin often visits the shoreline, so it's not unusual at all to meet him here. He sits with his legs tucked up to his chest, boots off, waves lapping at his feet. Sometimes for hours.]

[Those who know him might notice one small difference however; his clothing. His uniform looked more or less the same, but he was missing his green cape, and the emblem on his jacket was not blue-and-white wings, but two crossed swords.]

[He looks to his communicator at his side. His eyes, normally so bright with intelligence and curiosity seem unsettlingly dead.]


No one had ever told me... Is it true that this is the ocean?
justlove: Be Calm - fun. (One day I'm gonna die)
[personal profile] justlove
[If there's one thing that Blaine's learned, it's that every minute of every day is filled with choices. And for most people, the majority of those choices come easily to them. When it comes down to choosing between whether to heat up a frozen dinner for one or to whip up a batch of macaroni and cheese, most people have no problem deciding between the two.

But for Blaine, things are a little bit different. If he feels like cooking for himself, he has to make sure he has enough time to devote to the entire process: the process that starts with gathering the necessary ingredients and cooking supplies, and also familiarizing himself with the layout of the room he's in.

All of this takes some time, and a simple thing like making scrambled eggs for breakfast ends up becoming quite the endeavor. But the way he sees it, he has nothing but time on his hands, and what's three minutes or thirty when there's no appointments or classes to rush off to?

So, after the lengthy process of making sure everything he needed was prepared and within easy reach, Blaine settles back to wait for the stove to finish heating up to the proper temperature. He doesn't go very far away, because causing a fire this early wouldn't be great for anyone. He stays near enough that he can still feel the heat rising from the stove, working off instinct to tell when it's hot enough to cook the eggs that are sitting in a bowl to the right of the pan.

But in the meantime, he's just going to see if anyone's awake and in the mood for conversation, so he fiddles with his communication device until it flips to the video function. He manages this fairly well, only fumbling once or twice as the buttons prove difficult. It's something he's gotten used to, though, remembering which button he needs to push to get the function that he wants, but sometimes, he doesn't mesh well with technology. At least today, it seems to be cooperating.]


Morning. [He smiles in the direction of the screen.] It feels like it's going to be a nice day, doesn't it?

[He can't really tell by looking, of course, but there's something in the air that makes him feel like today's going to turn into a pleasant one.]

Listen, I'm going to be in the kitchen for awhile if anyone wants to stop by. You might even get some food out of it if you do.

[He's cooking for more than one person, because in his experience, the smell of food acts as quite the powerful lure, and really, it's a win/win all around. They get fed, he gets some company for a little while, and if they hit it off, an enjoyable conversation might end up happening.

And if they don't hit it off, well, sometimes that happens too. But whether they get along or not, it's not about that for him. Having someone else around to talk to, even if they're the grouchiest person on earth, really helps Blaine out in ways he never thought possible.

He puts on a brave face most of the time, but not being able to see definitely has its pitfall moments. He's come a long way in terms of taking care of himself, but the adjustment part of things is something he has to wrestle with on a daily basis.]
kingofnightmares: (What an adorable dream.)
[personal profile] kingofnightmares
[The feed flickers on to reveal silver eyes, peering into it. It looks pretty dark, but a figure can be made out through it. The man on screen has gray skin, silver eyes, jagged teeth, and raven black hair. He purses his lips, looking to be confused.]

How on earth...? I'm able to touch things again. This can’t be right. [He holds the device farther away from his face with one hand, running the other through his hair.]

I was reduced to almost nothing. Again.[A pause.] Perhaps it's this place. Whatever this place is, it is making me whole once more. Then that might mean people can see me. [He almost chuckles, grinning.]

If the Man in the Moon isn’t in charge of whatever world this is, then perhaps I can start anew. A world without those blasted Guardians.

[A pair of golden eyes peer over his shoulder, a snort audible through the feed. Pitch glances back and smiles as the horse-like creature behind him nuzzles his cheek.]

Mn, yes, this will be an excellent start for us.
onsilksheets: (pic#3852512)
[personal profile] onsilksheets
[Before making any kind of public address, Bela found herself in one of the tea rooms at random whilst she was exploring her new found 'home.' The truth was, she had been here about two days, spending most of her time snooping rather than speaking to anyone else. But one could only find out so much by themselves before they were forced to ask around.

When the feed clicks on, it shows Bela with a china cup in one hand and a biscuit in the other. She's attractive, her hair a light brown colour and if you looked close enough you'd notice the greenness of her eyes. Bela finishes the biscuit off, taking delicate, ladylike bites from it before brushing the crumbs away.

Now she's ready to talk.
]

What kind of place doesn't have an exit? That's something I've been asking myself the past few days while I was exploring this quaint little mansion.

[The English accent is clear and for once Bela isn't faking one nor playing a role. She is serious this time.]

It's beginning to frustrate me, being unable to go back the way I came. I can't stay here, I refuse to and I need to know the way out. [She holds back, reigning her anger in as much as possible. Not a good way to endear people to her, even if she didn't particularly care about their opinion.]

Now if anyone could help a girl out, I'd be ever so grateful.

[The last part is overly sweet and sickeningly so. Completely unlike her.]


((ooc:Feel free to action it up in the tea room! :D))
goodnightlisteners: (it's contract negotiation season!)
[personal profile] goodnightlisteners
[What's this? A new voice on the network? Oh, and what a voice it is. One might even call it smooth, if not also sonorous. It's a male voice, and whoever he is, he doesn't sound all that frightened or surprised.]

...Helllloooo? Night Vale? I don’t know if you can hear me...I seem to have slipped out of time and space again. This time, however, my surroundings are--actually quite pleasant! I am in a large room that looks a bit like an upscale hotel room. Possibly a Marriot? There is a bed and other appropriate furniture, as well as a closet and full length mirror on one wall. There is a door...I can only assume it leads to the rest of the hotel.

If this even is a hotel.

[There's a shuffling sound of feet on carpet.] There is also a window. I am moving over to it now...perhaps I can get the lay of the land from here. Let’s see. There are trees…and beyond that is...oh...oh my. It couldn't be. Listeners...you’re not going to believe this...I can see the ocean from here! Oh, dear listeners...I think it’s safe to say that...I’m not in Night Vale anymore.
bottlearum: (Considering)
[personal profile] bottlearum
Oh. What's this?

[ The feed has cut on completely by accident when Jack Sparrow picked up the device. He studies it now with narrow, confused eyes, poking at it in hopes to elicit a response.

He also happens to be soaking wet.

Jack soon becomes disinterested in the device when nothing happens, putting it to the side, revealing the pool. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Jack Sparrow has arrived in Wonderland in the pool.

Jack turns from the device to study the mansion before him with curiosity. Strangely enough, he doesn't seem overly concerned that he's shown up in a strange place he hadn't been a few minutes ago.
]

Right. Where are we now, then?

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