+ some wonderlands are kind

[ She knew as soon as the cryptic message went up what this was going to be. And it's really something to finally be up, after two and a half years, to know this one's yours and it won't be anything good. Michonne's stockpiled more than usual - cases of bottled water, a shit ton of non-perishable food, and guns, ammo. She doesn't know what to expect; maybe it'll all disappear overnight, but she has to try.

When she wakes up back home, back in Alexandria, at first she thinks she's back. But she remembers Wonderland, sits up straight in bed and realizes a few things. Rick's not beside her, her stockpile from yesterday is still there, and her device is on the nightstand. Dressing quickly, she gets up, walks through the familiar house and out onto the porch.

She is home. There's no Daryl in the house next door, her people aren't here, but she's back and she isn't sure how to feel. She isn't even sure what fucked up thing might happen. She has to do her best to warn everyone, toe the line between scaring the shit out of people and making sure they understand. Sitting at her kitchen table (and that's a weird thing, too. This isn't anyone's but hers. This is all...hers. Her house, her couch, her mantle where she hung her katana thinking in a bout of optimism that it could stay there) she turns on her device, her face a little harder than usual which is, in all honesty, saying something. ]

If you don't know me, my name's Michonne. This is my world. Looks nice. Quaint. But it's not. Most people in Wonderland call it a zombie apocalypse. We didn't know what it was.

[ She really can't help having this moment out loud. ]

It was never entertainment for movies and tv in my world. It's real. Most of you already know what to do: shot to the head is the only thing that kills them. It's not good enough to just cut off the head. It can still bite. You get bit, you die and turn. Come back as one of them. Don't worry about being able to tell the difference between someone alive and someone dead. You can see it. Smell it.

[ And uh, one other thing: ]

If you get bit on a part that can be cut off, arm, leg. Do it. Cut it off as soon as you can. If you don't bleed to death, you won't turn.

[ But everyone knows this is temporary, so maybe people would just rather die than go through an amputation. Maybe they'd die and turn because eventually, this will end. They don't have to keep living it every single day. ]

I don't know if walkers will even be the issue. It could be anything I've gone through, right? There's enough fucked up shit that's happened, the biggest threat might not even be the dead. Just trust me. Get a weapon. Stay close because there's safety in numbers. I'm at the very end of the neighborhood with cases of water and food if you don't have any, but look in your pantries and see if there are rations, first. If you know how to use a gun, I've got those too.

Just know that noise draws them in. Gunfire is dangerous, might as well sound off a dinner bell for walkers. That's why I've had and always will have a katana. If you smell like them, they won't bother you. Smear their guts on you, smell dead, walk slow, you can get through a hoard.

[ She should stop, she can't tell everyone everything, it's too much. ]

You know how to reach me, if you need me.