nofucksconjured: (One two for your bad tattoos and)
[personal profile] nofucksconjured
[ Hannah's sitting on the bed in her room, jacket off. She's tapping her wand against one tattoo'd shoulder and looking quite put-out. This has been quite an unnerving week. ]

Okay, so, fucked up stalker statues aside, color me curious. Are there training areas here? Or any place I can practice a few spells without potentially killing someone by accident? Mostly because one, I don't want to get rusty if this kind of shit's a regular thing here. And two... Trying to blow up something that doesn't blow up? Talk about a mood killer. I've got some magic frustration to work out.

Also. Anyone here good with ink? I hate to cheat on my tattoo guy, but this whole "bam, suddenly you're twenty years older" shit has me thinking. I'd like to get my sleeves done before I'm wrinkly. I can't be a bad ass tattoo'd grandma without the tattoos, right?

[ Priorities. She's got 'em. ]
selfrespecting: (ready)
[personal profile] selfrespecting
[The first day Martha had spent confirming that her worst fears were true, that this event is because of her. Waking up dizzy had been the first sign, but then the statues had started to appear outside of the building, still and silent and watching.

She doesn't know what the Weeping Angels will be capable of here in Wonderland, but there's no question that it won't be good. She does some patrolling, but without one of those -- those screwdrivers to take readings, there's no way to predict what they'll do.

The second day is when she observes them making their stuttered way toward the mansion, officially in attack mode, and that's when she decides that she needs to make an announcement.

She's standing at a window when she makes the broadcast, her gaze mainly turned away from the screen. She's barely even taking the risk of looking directly at her mobile's camera.]

I'm sure you've all seen the statues by now. This event is from my world. [She isn't scared to admit that.] They're called the Weeping Angels, and they're a very dangerous alien race. You cannot take your eyes off of them or they'll be able to come after you, quicker than you could ever imagine.

[She shifts the communicator around to be in front of her, so that she can be looking at the screen and out the window at the same time.] You can't even blink, or they'll get to you. We have strength in numbers here -- if we have at least one person watching them at all times, we'll be fine.

Back home, these things would send people into the past and then feed off of their unlived futures, but here? There's no telling, I'm sorry. But you have to be careful, all of you. If anyone finds out what they're capable of, let me know. I'll be on the move to help as much as I can.

[That's about all the warning she can give, but she finishes with:] Remember, don't blink.

[OOC: Martha will be making her way around the mansion and the grounds from here on out, so feel free to run into her wherever!]
smilethatbites: (heeeere kitty kitty)
[personal profile] smilethatbites
[The Cat is lounging in a patch of sun coming through a window, belly exposed, the tip of its tail flicking just slightly, musing to itself.]

Oooh? This hasn't happened in quite some time.

[The Cat rolls over onto its side and kneads the carpet, digging in its claws and pulling at the fibers.]

I wonder what you'll see. When sight is one of the only things you have left of yourself and the only thing you have of them, I imagine it becomes a lot a lot more important.

[The Cat yawns.] Not that I'd know. I'm always whole--it's just that sometimes part of my whole is elsewhere.

[It yawns again. Today is a tired day.

nofucksconjured: (Look at you)
[personal profile] nofucksconjured
Avidas... whoever the fuck is hearing this. The mage who made this runestone has got interesting taste. Whatever. Whoever the hell you are, I've already got one. I'm good. Unless this is a new one from you, Mother. Please don't be Mother.

If by any chance this is Betty, Dee, or Violet... Where in this gods forsaken shithole are you? I woke up in this mansion so the dickbag who brought me here without permission is one, an elf-napping asshole and two, rich as fuck. I'm not saying we should loot the place, but we should totally loot the fuck out of this place.

But seriously, how the fuck did this happen? I'm used to being hung over as hell when I wake up somewhere I don't recognize. Betty didn't put magic 'shrooms in my stir-fry again, did she?


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